Game of Thrones Tales: Lannister Family Values
by regertz
Summary: Summary: In an alternative universe, King Robert calls on a different old friend and brother to assist him. But whose decency, kindness, and sense of honor, while a bit different from Ned Stark's are equally strong. But are the family values of House Addams a match for the ruthless Lannisters? (A prequel to a longer tale I'm fooling with)
1. Chapter 1

Game of Thrones Tales: Lannister Family Values

Summary: In an alternative universe, King Robert calls on a different old friend and brother to assist him. But whose decency, kindness, and sense of honor, while a bit different from Ned Stark's is equally strong. But are the family values of House Addams a match for the ruthless Lannisters.

(A prequel to a longer tale I'm fooling with)

Prologue:

"Lannister Family Values…"

"They're creepy and they're kooky…Ruthless and slinky… (Family group of the adult Lannisters, and Joffrey at his mother's feet, all snapping fingers but Tyrion, who rolls eyes while Tywin glares at him).

They're altogether kinky…The Lannister family… (Joffrey sneering…)

Casterly Rock is a museum…When people come to see 'em. ("Come and lets have a look at my Hall of Heads taken from my enemies." Tywin offers.)

They really make guests scre..am…The Lannister family… (Screams, swords and axes coming down on heads…)

Da-da-da-da-da-dah-da-dah…Neat… (Shot of Jamie, throwing hair back…)

Da-da-da-da-da-dah-da-dah…Sweet…(Shot of Cersei, sneering…)

Da-da-da-da-da-dah-da-dah… Da-da-da-da-da-dah-da-dah…Da-da-da-da-da-dah-da-dah Petite…("Must you? Really?" Tyrion frowns…)

So get a witches shawl on…  
>A dragon you can crawl on<br>Tis time King Robert did deal with…  
>The Lannister Family….<p>

In the North of Westeros, in the vast swamp no sane man would frequent, northeast of Winterfell, lies the ancestral home, Swampflood, of the House Addams…Its leader, Gomez Addams, fabled if somewhat insane warrior, financial wizard…(Some would say "wizard" without the financial…)…And true friend and brother to King Robert of the House Baratheon. Since the sack of Kings' Landing and the murder of the Targaryen children, like Robert's other but sadly recently poisoned at an otherwise very cheery feast of goodwill at Ser Walter Frey's Triplets, Edduard "Ned" Stark, Addams has preferred to keep away from court and devote himself to securing the upper North for the kingdom and more importantly to his family and his "hobbies".

(Cut to shot of a vast hall room in which we see several models of a self-propelled, steam-powered device, the engines each pulling a line of miniature carriages along small iron tracks through a huge model of the Kingdom. A typically novel and brilliant Addams invention which the King has yet to accept as a potential form of transportation. In part due to his Lannister relations' determination not to surrender their monopoly on the Kingdom's post service, maintained by Lannister horses at a colossal profit…And perhaps in part due to Gomez's penchant for wreaking said models in huge collisions.)

"Here they come, Pugsly, you want the plunger or the train controls?" Gomez to his eager son the noble if rather pale and pudgy Pugsly…But hey, swamplands, not exactly a place to breed a Jamie…

Though Jamie Lannister would have gladly traded his battle prowess for a fraction of the attention the rather unathletic if earnest in effort Pugsly was currently receiving...

And the affection bestowed by both parents.

"Controls! I'll crash them before you can blow the bridge!"

"We'll see…" fanatic light in Gomez' eyes…The fiery light of one born off Westeros in the isle of Corsica, noted for mad fanatics, insanely passionate lovers, and brutal and endless vendettas…In all three categories, Lord Gomez being well-favored.

Whistles and bells as all three models approach…A model bridge under which a tiny charge of firepowder, another Addams invention…Likewise dismissed as a crazy notion…Rests, awaiting a small spark from Gomez' personal invention, the lightening jug. In which he has managed to trap and briefly store small quantities of lightning, produced by rubbing certain objects together.

(Naturally yet another Addams invention dismissed as "crazy nonsense"…By all but one, a somewhat isolated and diminutive member of the Lannister family.)

"Hah, we'll smash!" Pugsly, adjusting a track control, diverting one of the trains to a headon collision with the others, just before the bridge.

"But not if I also blow up the junction!" Gomez, triumphant! Explosion rocks the hall…Plaster and timber fall..

"Lord Gomez…Lord Pugsly…" A slow very deep voice… "Uhhhhhhhhhhh." Slow, deep tone of disapproval.

"Yes, Lurch?" Lord Gomez rising out of the rubble…The whole model a gaping crater in the center of the room...Addressing the huge figure at the hall entrance observing the devastated room with a disapproving look, shaking head.. "What's up? As you can see, there's a lot of the ceiling down. Pugsly?" he looks back to see Pugsly eagerly climbing out of a rubble pile.

"That was great, Dad!" Pugsly eagerly. "You got me that time!"

"A bit more explosive than I might have used but it got the job done, eh, son!" eager beam.

"Lord Addams…Uhhhhhhhhhhh." The hulking, seven foot, rather green-skinned man sighed.

"Oh, yes. You have some urgent business for me? What is it, man? Ah, thank you, Thing." Gomez, turning to take a cloth offered from a hand emerging from a wooden box on a still intact massive marble side table and wiping soot from face.

"Lady Morticia wishes to see you at once…Uhhhhhhh…Raven from the capital. Uhhhhhhhh…"

"News from my ole buddy, Robert?" eager look. "Maybe he wants to hunt snark here again, like in the old days? Well, lets hope he's finally consented to let me run a full-scale rail line from here to Kings' Landing. I did offer to pay for it myself." Climbs out of rubble, wiping with cloth.

"Well, Pugsly, I'd better go see what your mother wants and you'd better call in the boys to help you and Lurch clean all this up before your mother sees it. I'll try to come and give a hand in a bit."

"It's really the King, Father?" Pugsly, eagerly curious. His striped tunic bulging a bit in the middle as he came to stand by his father. "He's not contacted you much in the last few years until Lord Stark died."

"That's what Lurch here says… Robert was pretty broken up by Ned's death…Like this room. Best to get to it, fellas. I'll let you know all about it later, son." Cheery pat on back.

….

"Now you die…!" call from above balcony as Lord Gomez leaves the room…Thwack of arrow in the wall next to where Pugsly looks up to see his sister, Lady Wednesday, in black tunic, black tightly braided hair pulled severely back, with crossbow, loading for a second shot.

"Uhhhhhh…My Lady…" Lurch, frowning, looking up. "Not in the Great Hall…Your mother has commanded it. Uhhhhhhhh." Shake of head. "You and your brother go play elsewhere…Uhhhhhh…Staff and I will clean up…"

"Lets go shoot at each other outside, Wed…After I give a hand here." Pugsly urged.

Wednesday frowning, narrow-eyed look, sighting her large target.

Well…

If Mom says no crossbowing in the Hall…

"I'll give you a hand. I want you dead by dinner." She called.

"You don't give a hand with such work. You're a girl." Pugsly insisted as he started picking up shattered bits of the model.

Grrrrrr…Wednesday's raging glare…She lept over the balcony railing and slid down a column to the floor.

"I can do anything you can and better, you toad!" she fumed.

"I wouldn't've missed." Pugsly insisted.

"Children…Uhhhhhhhhhhh…" Lurch, half-addressing them, half to himself in depressive reflection.


	2. Chapter 2

Game of Thrones Tales: Lannister Family Values

Summary: In an alternative universe, King Robert calls on a different old friend and brother to assist him. But whose decency, kindness, and sense of honor, while a bit different from Ned Stark's are equally strong. But are the family values of House Addams a match for the ruthless Lannisters.

Part I…

"Cara…" Lord Gomez had climbed the dank and slippery steps of the great central Tower to find his Lady Morticia in her usual black, stroking a raven as she sat on the stone side of the rather dilapidated roof, looking out over the dismal swamps of Swampflood, probably the most impregnable and least desired, by other Houses at least, seat in the Seven Kingdoms.

"Gomez, darling…" she eyed him, her habitually mournful look taking on a degree of smoldering passion. "A raven has come, from Kings' Landing. A message from King Robert."

"Indeed, so I was told…" he came to sit by her. "And have you read it?"

"I wanted to wait for you…" she noted, her eyes fixing on his.

"Of course, it must be important, for Robert to contact me like this. He's been badly affected by poor Ned Stark's untimely demise."

"I know it's long overdue that you two resumed your old friendship…But Gomez…I have a dark foreboding about this." She noted.

"Well, Cara…Dark foreboding is your natural state…" he pointed out.

"True…But…" she raised a finger…He eyeing the long, curving nail…The pale cuticle…The dead white skin of the finger like cream curdling slowly into cheese…

"Boobela…" she sighed… "I fear…"

"Tish…That Pentos dialect drives my Corsican blood wild…"He grabbed arm, passionately kissing. "Say a few syllables…Pate…Croissant…Bagette…"

"Gomez…" she gasped, breasts heaving…Her pale face turning that slightest hue of pink indicating raw passion was swamping… "I'm being…Irresponsible…"

"Lets be insanely irresponsible…!" he cried, sweeping her up. "Cara…"

"Gomez, my darling…" she pleaded. "King Robert, your dear friend…State business…"

He sighed…"Ah, yes…The greater good…"

"Later…" she eyed him. "As in, ten minutes, once you've read the note."

"Well then, for the Gods sake, give me the note…" he reached for her delicate hand and took the capsule, opening feverishly.

"Ah…" he unscrolled the note. "My love…Robert comes here tonight."

"And leaves, when…?" she eyed him.

"Oh, a few days…With the full court compliment, I'm afraid. As many as can be carried across the swamps."

"Hmmn…We'd better see that we have supplies laid in." she turned and pulled a rope, causing a loud, deep clang far below that reverberated through the castle keep.

"You rang…." The deep voice of the hulking Lurch whose head now appeared just through the door on the stairs to the roof.

"Yes, Lurch, dear…" Morticia nodded. "King Robert and his court are coming tonight…There'll be about 250 for dinner, 100 here in the hall, the rest outside…And they'll be staying for several days. Of course only the royal family and Kingsguard will stay with us, the rest will be camped in the fields."

"We'll want a most royal feast, Lurch…Roast ox, eye of newt stew, toad pie, ferret and toadstool pudding…Mead from the finest swamp moss." Gomez noted. "King Robert likes his feasts so lets really put on the whole hog…About 14 I'd say. Oh and see that a few prostitutes are brought up from that brothel on the edge of the Great Swamp. Both the King and my Lord Tyrion Lannister have an eye for the ladies of easy virtue…" raised eyebrows, smile…

"Uhhhhhhhhhhhh."

"Go to it, man..." Gomez nodded. "Lets show the King and court true Addams hospitality!"

"Uuuuhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh…Yes, Lord Addams."

"Now, Lurch…Be sure and see that all the bedchambers are properly fumigated and Wednesday's collections of dead animals are removed from each." Morticia noted. "And see that the tapestries depicting the King's career of mass murder in battle and tourney are displayed in each."

"And you better also remove Pugsly's collections of half-eaten ones…" Gomez noted. "That boy has a healthy appetite."

"Uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh…." Lurch groaned, heading back down.

"Darling, I think Lurch is a bit troubled by the King's proclivities." Morticia sighed. "He's the soul of discretion of course but you know how sensitive Lurch is."

"Indeed." Gomez nodded. "I could feel the disapproval in his voice. But, Robert's a lusty man of demented passions…Who, unlike me, never found true happiness."

"Oh, Gomez…" Morticia, wan smile. "But that's so sad for poor Cersei. She's such a dear girl."

"True, true…Though I do think, Tish that sometimes that sweet nature may conceal something more dark. But perhaps not. Say…?" he beamed. "Maybe while they're visiting you could use your magnificent skills in lovematching and counseling to bring them closer together? For the sake of their lovely children, particularly that delightful Joffrey, our future king."

"Oh, darling…" Morticia sighed. "I appreciate the confidence but I think you're far too blinded by love of me to estimate my skills properly. But, for your sake and the kingdom's, I'll do what I can." She paused… "But I am bothered by this sudden visit, even if Robert needs cheering up. And it's strange…"

"Really? What's strange?"

"That the message came in the King's name, not Jon Arryn's. Surely the Hand should handle such communications?"

"Hmmn…" Gomez pondered. "That is curious. Well, we'll know soon enough…Are you returning that raven to Kings' Landing? You know you'd best send it off soon, before…You know."

"Uncle Fester?" she eyed him. "Yes, he does love raven stew…I'll send it off at once…" She went to the bird, its foot secured by a string. "Just let me write a message…"

"Fee, fie, foe, fum…I smell raven!" a voice called from the stairs. "Morticia! Did we get a raven?!"

"Fester, old man…" Gomez called down. "You know these are the King's ravens, special messengers, really not a good idea to eat the kingdom's primary communications system."

Grumbling sound from the stairs…

Morticia, having written note, placed it in capsule…And attaching capsule to the raven's foot, sent it off…

Shrill squeak as the raven was brought down by a crossbow bolt shot.

"Got him! Hah!" Fester's triumphant voice. "Raven stew for dinner!"

"Fester, that wasn't cricket. How do we let the King know now that I've received his message?" Gomez called. "Besides, he's to be here tonight. There'll be all sorts of feasty treats…"

"Then one more raven can only help…" Fester called back.

"Uncle Fester…What are we to do with you?" Morticia sighed. "Come up here, this instant."

"NO! I won't!" cry.

"Fester, now be reasonable…" Gomez sighed.

"Fester…"Morticia, annoyed.

"Hah!" Fester's voice…

"Very well…" Morticia shook, pulling cord. "I hate to do this to Lurch when he's so busy. Uncle Fester, sometimes you do try my patience."

"You rang…." Lurch's voice from below… "I have Ser Fester…"

"Lurch! Put me down !" Fester's voice. "I'm a knight of the House Addams…Put me down!" Lurch appearing at the top of the stairs again, then emerging onto the roof area, bearing a large, heavy-set, bald man in black of deathly pale hue.

"Uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh…." Lurch, shaking head.

"Oh, look, another raven…" Morticia pointed.

"Get me my crossbow, Lurch!" Fester in Lurch's grip, cried…

"Belay that order, Lurch…Fester…" Gomez eyed him sternly.

"Oh, all right. Have him put me down!"

"After Morticia sends a reply and the poor bird has a chance to escape your keen marksman's eye." Gomez noted.

"This one's not from King Robert, but my sister…Ophelia Arryn…At the Eerie Eyrie…" Morticia eyed the unscrolled note. "Her husband, the King's Hand…Is dead."

"Dead? Jon Arryn, her husband?" Gomez stared.

"Lucky guy, at last." Fester noted. "Ophelia being his wife…"

"Uncle Fester!" Morticia, shocked.

"Fester…" Gomez shook head. "Hmmn…This sounds like it may something to do with Robert's going here." He eyed Morticia.

"If you're not using that crow…" Fester noted.

"I'll be sending a note back to Ophelia…Gomez…" Morticia eyed the note. "There's more…"

"Probably about how he jumped through the Moon Door to escape her…" Fester noted.

"Fester, old man…" Gomez shook head as Morticia glared.

"Sorry…" Fester sighed. "Can I go have Lurch find the other one for my dinner?"

"May as well…" Gomez noted, leaning close as Morticia scanned the other side of the note… "And I agree with you about Jon jumping…" he whispered, winking.

"Ok, then…Lurch!" Fester called happily, heading down the stairs.

"Gomez…This is horrible."

"I know…That raven is not going to be in good shape when Lurch gets to it."

"No, I mean about my brother-in-law,Jon. Ophelia says he was murdered, poisoned." She eyed him.

"Poisoned? Or 'poisoned'?" he replied.

"Gomez…" frown.

"Well, I do have to agree with Fester that Jon might have had some desire to get even further away from Ophelia than Kings' Landing." Gomez shrugged. "But I suppose it's cause for concern. Unless she did it."

"Gomez. She loved Jon, despite his age, general unpleasant appearance, tendency to speak of nothing but business, disapproval of the way she raised their son, and his recent insistence on sending the boy away to be raised as a ward on the far edge of the kingdom. No, she says the Lannisters poisoned Jon."

"The Queen's family Lannisters? Why would they want to do that?"

"They are a rather notably ruthless family, darling." Morticia noted. "Jamie Lannister carving up the Mad King as he did at the end of Robert's Rebellion. I mean was It necessary to hack him into four pieces?"

"The Targaryens are a hardy bunch with a great record of survival." Gomez noted. "You know it's said that despite Ser Walter's ties to the Starks, he's had secret dealings with the Lannisters, particularly Queen Cersei."

"Dear Gods no…" Morticia sighed. "That woman will have sex with anyone."


	3. Chapter 3

Game of Thrones Tales: Lannister Family Values

Summary: In an alternative universe, King Robert calls on a different old friend and brother to assist him. But whose decency, kindness, and sense of honor, while a bit different from Ned Stark's are equally strong. But are the family values of House Addams a match for the ruthless Lannisters.

Part II…

A horn blast from giant ram's horn echoing though the Keep of Swampflood signaled to all the imminent arrival of the King and his party.

Another blast…The servants including Lurch pausing and frowning in their ways.

Yet another…The castle windows now trembling in their leaded panes.

"Mama!" Lady Morticia called up from the ground floor of the Keep toward the roof. "We've got the message, the King is here. There's no need to keep…"

Another blast of horn, longer and louder…Shattering a few panes this time, one servant collapsing, holding his ears.

"Now, Mama…!" Lord Gomez, having entered from the courtyard after the second blast, called. "I'm sure the King appreciates your desire to herald his coming but…"

Longest blast of all, a true shock wave…Panes shattering, more servants collapsing, a number of portraits and tapestries falling to the ground.

"Uuuuhhhhhh…" Lurch, shaking head.

"Gomez, darling, you'll have to go up…" Morticia noted. "And best to do it while she's recovering her breath."

"Assuming of course she hasn't passed out from that last one…That was a whopper." Gomez, cheerily, heading quickly for the stone stairs and hurrying up.

"Ah, Mama…" he addressed the gasping old woman standing on the rooftop observation platform by the giant warning horn. "Well done, indeed! But I think you'd best cease and desist before we have no castle to welcome the King and company with."

Huumph…The old white-haired woman in dark gown, bestrune with weeds from the Great Swamp, frowned at him. "When I was a girl I brought down castle walls with one blast of your grandfather's horn."

"So you did…Though bit of a problem it generally being the walls of our allies and friends…And our own." Gomez noted. "But judging by the effect of that last blast, I'd say your lung capacity has held up well over the years."

"I'm not the girl I was…" she sighed ruefully.

"Well, Mama…None of us are…" Gomez noted, sympathetically. "And I have the sketches of me in dresses to prove it."

"I loved you in long curls…" she sighed fondly.

"As did I…" Gomez nodded. "But, times change, years pass, and so should we."

"Well, you know I can wield sword with the best of them…" she insisted. "I should apply to the King for a position in the Kingsguard. You have influence with him, Gomez. Tell him I'm still the girl who cleaved the Canyon of Storming Rage, Ser Gregory, in two at the Battle of…Ummn…Well, whatever battle it was…"

"Now, Mama…" Gomez patted her arm. "I don't doubt you could still cleave a man thrice your size in twain but what would we do without you here? The children would be heartbroken…Tish and I'd be lost without you."

"In other words…" she eyed him shrewdly. "I'm old and useless and fit only to tend the fires and tell stories and knit."

"Mama…" Gomez sighed.

"It's true…When was the last time I got to cut a man down and wade through his bloody entrails…?" she noted.

"But Mama, there's been peace in the Kingdom for seventeen years. Frankly, I think you'd find it dull in the Kingsguard. No one's attempted a coup since the Greatjerks of the Tin Islands attempted a rebellion during the war. I hear all Jamie Lannister, the Kingslayer himself, gets to do these days is stand outside Robert's door and occasionally massage his feet after a long session of whoring and feasting."

"Well, maybe there's another post I could take up…" Lady Addams, raising eyebrows shrewdly.

"Mama…That would be assassination. Robert could never deal with your raw passion." Gomez grinned.

"I was rather…Passionate…In my day." She nodded.

"Indeed…The most passionate woman in the Seven Kingdoms…And you still are." He beamed.

"Well, then…Put in my application for chief courtesan, then." She urged.

"Mama…"

"Gomez…I was defeating armies with your father when you were still…Well…" she pointed at her tummy.

"So you were…The Warrior Queen of the Addams clan."

"And as for 'passion'…They may say King Robert has his share of extramarital offspring but…"

"Mama…?" shocked tone.

"Oh, come now. Even that dullard Ned Stark fathered one during the war. Your father and I were madly in love but we were often separated for years. It never bothered us, we kept a running tally." Grin. "I was ahead by two when our war ended and we were at last together…"

"Hmmn. I always knew Father was the progressive sort but…Well…" he reflected.

"Well, then…?" she insisted.

"How about this?" he suggested. "There's nothing much going on in Kings' Landing…Robert's got everything under control and alls quiet. The real action's up here, in the North. You know what poor ole Ned Stark used to say…"

"Lord…" she frowned. "I loved him and I know he was your other best friend and brother, but he was the dullest boy I ever knew…Always going on with the obvious. 'Winter is coming'…Well of course it is. But what was he doing about it? Nothing. And murdering children is dishonorable, certainly…If they can't hold a sword…But did he do anything about it? No."

"Now, Mama…Ned always meant well."

"Road to hell, good intentions pavement…" she frowned. "But what were you suggesting…?"

"I was hoping…You'd take command of my guard, here, at Swampflood. Mama, I hate to break the news this way, but Jon Arryn, the Hand and my brother-in-law…Is dead, possibly murdered, according to Ophelia."

"Jon Arryn…" gasp… "No…"

"Oh…Dear Mama…" he put hand on her shoulder. "I'd forgotten. You rather had a thing for him, yourself once…Didn't you?"

"More like an illicit and passionate love affair…" she noted.

"Mama…?"

"Well, he's dead…It can't hurt Ophelia now. Besides it was before she married him. Hmmn…" narrow look. "She told you he was murdered?"

"By raven message, just now, yes."

"I'd check to see where she was when he died."

"Mama? You know Fester said the same thing. I always she loved him…They seemed such a happy couple."

"At a separation of 500 miles, maybe anyone seem a happy couple. Still, if she told you…" shrug.

"I suspect there may be trouble brewing at Kings' Landing despite the calm and secure grip on power Robert has wielded. Mama, I think he may mean to ask me to take Jon's place as Hand."

"Well, I'm ready. Get me my sword. We march at dawn on Kings' Landing. Death to all traitors!" she beamed, eyes gleaming as she rose.

"Mama, I want you to command my guard here, while I'm away. Pugsly will stay so there'll be a Lord Addams in Swampflood, with Morticia and my new wards, the Stark boys and Fearing Greatjerk, Ned's ole captive and ward. But the boy's not experienced and Morticia's never had that taste for blood-soaked swordplay you have. I need you, Mama…The family needs you."

"Sounds like a put-off to me, Gomez." She frowned. "I'd really be in command of the guard?"

"Absolutely. In fact I'd appreciate it if you put on a display for the King…There's no one I trust more to handle my people than you, Mama. Give him a thrill he hasn't seen since he hacked his way through the Targaryen army at the Trident and bathed in blood, several times."

"I suppose I could put on a good show still…But those young bucks and buckettes of yours will need some training." She noted carefully.

"Start right now…Whip them into shape, Mama. For the honor of the Addams crest." Gomez beamed.

"Sorry but you were in my way!...Our words." She noted proudly, gleam in eye. "All right son, I'll mold those weaklings into a force that could kill its way round the world."

"Excellent…"

"Oh…" she gave nervous look. "About that passionate affair with Jonny Arryn…That is one I prefer not to get out, for Ophelia's sake."

"Our little secret…I suppose Father…?"

"Oh, that was after your father passed away…In fact, to be honest...It was rather…Recent." Shrewd look.


	4. Chapter 4

Game of Thrones Tales: Lannister Family Values

Summary: In an alternative universe, King Robert calls on a different old friend and brother to assist him. But whose decency, kindness, and sense of honor, while a bit different from Ned Stark's are equally strong. But are the family values of House Addams a match for the ruthless Lannisters?

Part III…

"Mama seems very energetic…" Lady Morticia noted to Lord Gomez as they hurried to greet the King's herald approaching…Or rather, slogging through the deep quicksand and mud to approach…The gates of Swampflood. "She's been calling for the armorer and the master of arms…What did you say to her up there?"

"I put her in charge of the guard here…" he noted, a bit apologetically.

"Gomez? Isn't she getting on a bit for that sort of thing?" she stared.

"Mama? Never…Besides it was either that or she'd take the black and head for the Wall and you know how the children would miss her. Besides, Mama at the Wall with all those elderly knights and rough young lads…The Night's Watch'd either be decimated or too exhausted to fight anything." Grin.

Loud gong as the Herald at the gates pulled the long cord and then attempted to blow trumpet…Mostly mud emerging.

"You rang?" Lurch opening small door at the massive gate.

"Herald…" gag… "Of the most…" cough, spewing mud… "…noble King Robert I, ruler…" hack, spew of mud… "…of the Seven."

"Uuuuuuhhhhhhhhhhhh. Enter." Lurch opened door wide.

"Ah, Ser Lotus Markwell…" Lady Morticia nodded to the gallant if mud-bestrewn herald…Who had taken off his gauntlets and was shaking swamp mud out of each.

"My Lady…" bow.

"Lotus, old man…Had a bit of a swim getting through, eh?" Lord Gomez, cheerily. Sound of box opening, a hand offering a towel.

"Ah, the very thing, Thing, thanks." Gomez beamed, taking towel and handing it to Ser Lotus who took it gratefully.

"What news of the king, Ser Lotus?" Morticia asked as he wiped desperately, then came to attention.

"I've the honor to announce that the King should be here…Given the state of the roads…In a couple of days." Ser Lotus noted.

"Ah, he must be within two miles to make that kind of time." Gomez noted. "But Robert never did let any obstacle hinder him. How is the old sledge-hammering maniac?"

"Well, my Lord." Ser Lotus nodded. "Though perturbed by the recent sudden deaths of Lord Stark and Lord Arryn, his dear friends and supporters. He is very anxious to see you."

"And I, him, Lotus." Gomez, eagerly. "But you left him and the Queen well and in good spirits. I mean, apart from the mourning…?"

"King Robert was a bit less than his usual jovially brutal self my Lord. The Queen was her usual passive-aggressive, depressive bitch."

"Well, that's good to hear. We're preparing eagerly for their arrival. Feasting, a bit of tourney, a mammoth train wreck planned."

"I'm sure Their Majesties will be pleased and honored, my Lord and Lady Addams." Elegant, if muddy, bow.

Thwack of crossbow…

"Zounds! OW!" Ser Lotus groaned, clutching struck leg.

"Oh, dear…" Morticia sighed. "That's our little girl playing again, Ser Lotus. Wednesday!" she called. "Stop that immediately and come apologize to our guest!"

"He's alive! That's enough apology!" Wednesday's shrill voice, annoyed.

"Lurch, a surgeon for the Ser…" Gomez turned to the frowning Lurch, who groaned and lumbered off, muttering.

"Wednesday Addams! Come here at once!" Morticia called.

"I don't…" Wednesday emerged into view from a overhead balcony, staring down at the godlike visage of the desperately attempting to staunch bleeding fabled Knight of the Gardenias, Ser Lotus Markwell.

Ohhhh…She blinked…Ser Lotus turning his divine face her way, trying to smile while repressing the urge to call his aide to draw on the little…

Wednesday, open-mouthed…Gazing upon the most glorious thing she'd ever seen…

(Pick your favored romantic love theme…)

Suddenly finding the said little lady before him, she having lept from said balcony…

"Oh…" she gaped at his divine features. "I'm so sorry, Ser Knight. I must have been doing embroidery or some other attractively womanly task when my hand daintily struck a crossbow someone carelessly had left loaded on the balcony. Are you all right, Ser…Uh…"

Perfection? Divinity? Godlike Wonder?

"This is Ser Lotus Markwell, Wednesday." Morticia noted, relieved Wednesday's killer instinct had somehow been subdued. "Ser Lotus, my daughter Lady Wednesday."

"Charmed…" he groaned out.

"Wednesday's got a boyfriend…" Pugsly, watching from the balcony where he'd sat as Wednesday took his dare that she could skewer the visitor with one shot.

"You toad!" Wednesday cried at him, fuming…Then immediately recovering her dignity even before Morticia could intervene, turning back to Ser Lotus. "My Lord. Please pray accept my most fervent apologies for your accidental injury…May I?" she offered to take the handkerchief. "Water?!" she looked round.

The same box from which Thing and cloth had emerged opening again, a hand offering up a small bucket of water which she took gratefully. "Thank you, Thing."

"Wednesday's got a boyfriend…" Pugsly tried again, Wednesday, all dignity, not deigning to hear as she dabbed at the wound. Beaming at Ser Lotus' divine visage…

Slight coo as he smiled at her efforts…

"Pugsly! Boys!" Mama Addams' voice heard… "The courtyard, on the double!"

…

Toiling through the swamps of the Addams lands…About two miles from Swampflood…

"I'll bet you find this hard, don't you…You little shit…!" King Robert, an extremely heavy-set man sitting aside his half-submerged, groaning horse sneered at his blond, slender eldest son, Joffrey, currently trying to hack his way through the choking reeds on the so-called "road"…

"Oh, no Father…I'm eager to prove myself to you…" Joffrey, earnestly.

"You lying little shite…I can see the sweat popping out all over your soft face…" sneer.

"Well, it's very hot and very wet, Father…"

"You're no son of mine. When Ned Stark, Gomez Addams, and I were lads we could do a little hike like this like cutting an ox open. Don't believe me, you little pussy?! You, there!" the King cried to a floundering attendant… "Bring me an ox!"

"Oh, no need Father…I'm sure you did. I'll do my best, Father." Joffrey, pleading.

Ehah…Robert waved him off and rode over to the carriage of the Queen, half-submerged and being hauled through the muddy swamp by ten half-dead men and women. He drew the curtain to reveal his beauteous red-blonde haired Queen, Cersei Lannister, lying by his squire, her nephew, Ser Lancil Lannister, Lancil half-dressed. "Why don't you admit it, you cheap trash whore? The boy's a bastard son of your brother or some other fool, isn't he?"

"Robert…" Cersei frowned, pulling up her half-removed dress. "Don't be ridiculous."

Ehah…He waved her off, glaring…Then eyeing Ser Lancil. "And you, you shite for brains…Get the hell out of there and fetch me me wine, you turd!"

"Ay, Your Grace." Lancil hurrying…

"Why don't you come in and rest a while?" Cersei to Robert, eagerly. "We could talk about the children, make out, discuss the political situation, make out, earnestly thrash out our marital problems, make out for the rest of the day…" she eyed him.

Ehah…He waved hand, shook head, riding off.

"Bob's in a foul mood…" the voice of Cersei's astoundingly handsome brother, Jamie Lannister…He astride a horse that even more astoundingly managed to be clean as was, astoundingly, his gleaming armor.

"He's pressed by many cares." Cersei sighed. "If only he'd recognize my political shrewdness and let me run the kingdom unchecked…And make out with me like minks…Things could be so much easier. Even though of course I would still despise and loath him, dear man." She noted, fond tone.

"You know, sis…" Jamie eyed her. "Even though we've been carrying on an incestuous affair for years that would make the Borgias squirm, I can't help feel sometimes that it's Robert you truly love."

"Nonsense…And why aren't you with him to see he doesn't stumble in one of these damned bog homes?!" she fumed. He shook head and rode off…

"Lancil?" she called to the squire. "Bring me a flagon of the King's wine as well so at least I can be drinking the same thing he is!"

…..

Meanwhile…

At the capital of the Seven Kingdoms, that sinkhole of vice and corruption, that filth-laden breeding pit of plots and betrayal, currently hosting the Westeros World's Fair…Don't forget to come and see it…Kings' Landing…

"So…Even now the cogs of my fiendish schemes are rolling, the dice spinning…" the voice of Lord Petyr Belloq, "Middlefinger" by nickname… Minor court flunkey by official title…Master of the Game by scheming hopes. As the lithe, catlike figure stood in the Great Hall of the ancient Red Keep of Kings, seat of the dynasty. "Ned Stark…Jon Arryn…Both removed…Only that bizarre fool, Lord Gomez Addams left by the King's side. And soon, when he comes here to Kings' Landing…He'll be the tool I use to ignite a war that will tear this kingdom apart and lead me to the power I so richly…"

"My Lord Minor Flunkey, Keeper of the Royal Books and whatnot…" a voice cut him off in his audible reverie… "It really might be best for your reputation as a spymaster and master manipulator if you'd avoid speaking your plans aloud while in reverie. People, like me, your potentially worst enemy, the Master of Shadows, Lord VeryMuchs, might be listening. Though, of course…I was not. I swear." Earnest look.

"VeryMuchs…" narrow look. "The one man who could stand in my way…Damn! I'm sorry…I keep doing that…" apologetic look. "It's a habit I picked up while growing up alone and isolated in the poor Fingerlands off the Wrist and Arm…My apologies. I'm trying to curb it."

"Well, I, of course, heard nothing…" Verymuchs, solemnly. "Though I should tell you my network of child and abused women spies has learned that Ned Stark and Jon Arryn died under….Shall we say…Questionable? Circumstances. As did Lady Stark when she and Ser Walter's latest young wife were found in the Twins' basement, apparently victims of a bizarre candle-out accident on the stairs where they managed to both fall into the deadly sharp blades of swords in suits of armor Ser Walter just happened to have lying in his basement."

"How appalling." Middlefinger, sneering…Wait…Cat? Cat, dead? My Cat?

"Lady Stark dead? You're sure?" tearing up… "My Cat, gone? My little kitty Cat? Dead?"

"I thought you knew…" Verymuchs, looking uncomfortable…

Didn't mean to be the bearer of bad tidings…

"OH…" sob… "Cat, my Cat…" weeping… "Oh, how I loved you, even though you betrayed me to marry that oaf, that honorable fool, that tarraragoondeay, Ned Stark." Sobbing.

"There, there…My dear fellow…" Verymuchs, patting.

"Thank you…It's very hard." Sniff.

"Yes, I'm sure..."

"And just when my fiendish schemes were reaching fruition…" sigh.

"That's always a bummer…" Verymuchs, sympathetically. "But you mustn't let it ruin the rest of your life. When my balls were cut off and put in a jar while I was able to feel everything…I thought it the end of the world. Or at least it hurt like it. But, sadly…It wasn't."

"Really…?"

"Still hurts like hell, especially when it rains…Or when I get horny." Sigh. "Well, you were monologuing about your fiendish schemes…Hows about I leave you to it and perhaps you'll feel better?"

"You're really very kind, Verymuchs. Thanks." Sniff.

"Now, now…You'll get through this. Don't forget Sansa Stark is still alive and the spitting image of her mother at the time you loved and lost her, pervy as that might be."

"That's true…Thank you."

"Any time. I'll leave you to it, all right? Call me if you need to talk to someone later on. Don't feel you have to face this alone."

"Ok…" sob. "Thanks, again."

"Anytime." Verymuchs headed off.

"Somehow I just can't enjoy this as much knowing the person I'd hoped to trick into being with me on my throne is dead…" Belloq sighed. "It just seems like it's all for nothing…Still…" he brightened. "There is Sansa…Pervy as it might be to pursue her in Cat's place. And there is the Game, to be played. Now against the foolish Lord Addams…Sure to be my next catspaw." Momentary sneer…

Oh…sob…

Cat…


	5. Chapter 5

Game of Thrones Tales: Lannister Family Values

Summary: In an alternative universe, King Robert calls on a different old friend and brother to assist him. But whose decency, kindness, and sense of honor, while a bit different from Ned Stark's are equally strong. But are the family values of House Addams a match for the ruthless Lannisters?

Part IV…

The erect form of the white-haired Lady Addams in her gleaming black battle armor…(The spitting image of Margaret Hamilton, with white hair…)

Newly polished, Gomez noted to Morticia...The little fox knew I was going to give her the con, he grinned…

…As she faced the rows of boys and men…Pugsly and the boys of House Stark and their dependents, now wards of House Addams…The visiting Robbed Stark, new head of House Stark, his brothers Branded "Bran" Stark and Ricketts Stark, all three in black mourning for their parents, the younger boys being left as wards to train under the watchful if twisted eye of their father's dear friend Lord Gomez…Now Robbed had confirmed to his satisfaction that Lord Gomez would not immediately slit their throats as part of a barbaric medieval power play by sending one brother in at a time over several days…Their "foster brother"/hostage Fearing Greatjerk…Their "other" brother, the bastard Jon Snowed…Several of the men of House Stark's knights and soldiers…And the knights and soldiers of House Addams, including such legendary figures as Ser Egony de la Boil, Ser Twil Theend, Ser Caligula the Crazy, Ser Fuke Thiess, the great female knight Ser Portia DeRossi, the famed "The Terminator" Ser Arnold de Schwarzenegger.

"All right, you scum…You vermin…" Eyes blazing. "You've had it soft for now, haven't ye? Yes, ye have. Well, you'll rue the day you decided to sign up for the Mama corps! Now, drop and give me twenty!"

Stares… "But, ma'am?" A voice, the rather sniveling one of Greatjerk, the hostage… "We're all in our armor."

She came to him…"Two paces forward, scum!" she cried. "Greatjerk, the Stark 'ward'/hostage is it? Answer, me, filth!"

"Uh, yes, ma'am…" Greatjerk, a bit startled.

Lady Addams has had a rep as a fighter but she seemed so creepily and hopelessly senile in the days he's been at Swampflood.

"You're in your armor, eh…Filth!? She barked.

"Yes, ma'am."

"Think I'm a doddering old fool who can't see that, you scum sucking little mass of toad vomit!" she screamed in his stunned face.

"Uh…No, ma'am."

"Speak up, manure head! I'm an old doddering fool, I can't hear you!"

"NO! MA'AM!"

"You pathetic little wuss, too cowardly to escape, like your captivity do, ye?!"

"Well, Robbed is like a brother to me, Ned Stark was like a second, really decent, as opposed to my own indifferent asshole, father…Ma'am…"

"You miserable filth! GET DOWN IN THAT MIRE AND GIVE ME TWENTY CRUNCHES!"

"Crunches, ma'am? In armor?"

"'Crunches, ma'am…In armor?'" she repeated, mockingly. "Yes, TWENTY CRUNCHES IN ARMOR, you Tin Island twit! GET DOWN!" she threw him down in the mire. "ONE…!"

Metal groaning, Fearing groaning… Clang as she kicked his suit… "TWO! MOVE YOUR WORTHLESS SACK OF TOAD SHIT!"

"Mama is having a ball…" Gomez noted to Morticia as they watched from a balcony.

Snicker in the ranks…

"WHO LAUGHED!? Pugsly Addams, you worthless fat sack of cow dung! Step forward!" she stepped over to face Pugsly, who'd snickered.

"Hello, Jonny…" she beamed at Snowed who smiled back.

"Drop that bloated ball of lard in the mire and give me TWENTY-FIVE!" she screamed at Pugsly, who fell to the ground and began making an effort to manage one crunch.

"Getting on here at Swampflood, Jon…?" she asked, warmly. "I know it's a new place and all but we're all so glad to…ADDAMS, GET THE LARD OUT!" she hollered down at Pugsly.

"Mama doesn't play favorites…" Gomez nodded. "She does seem fond of that illegitimate son of Ned's, Jon Snowed, though…" Morticia noted.

"Oh…Does she?" Gomez, a bit reserved.

"Gomez?" Morticia eyed him. "What are you implying?"

"Wild horses could drag it out of me…But French would do it…Faster…" he noted, eyeing her.

"I'm so sorry about your father, Jonny…He was a fine man in his way…" Lady Addams noted. "Probably one of the handsomest young men I ever…Knew…I remember…GREATJERK, you filthy piece of Tin Island crap! Keep those crunches coming, you SCUM! And you, too, Addams!... When he came to our camp during the Rebellion and spent the night." She resumed, beaming at Jon.

"Gomez…?" Morticia, shrewd smile. "Are you telling me that the rumors about Mama and Ned Stark…?"

"At least one word, Tish…Only fair…" he noted.

"Boobela…" she smiled.

"Cara…" he beamed…. Taking her arm…Kissing… "Yes, Mama took a great interest in all the young warriors during the Rebellion." Kiss up arm… "Ned being one of the handsomest, she naturally took very great interest…" Kiss, kiss…

"Gomez…The King's coming…The children…"

"Ah, yes…" he sighed.

"We've things to do later…On the roof…" Morticia eyed him, Mona Lisa smile.

"Cara…" he beamed.

"Addams you pathetic tub of oily lard…Greatjerk you miserable shark chum…Both of you, on your feet and give me twenty laps round the Keep!" Lady Addams hollered. "The rest of you, present arms! Now, run in place till I give word to stop! You think I didn't mean you, 'Terminator'?!" she hollered in the frightened huge face of Ser Arnold, who began running in place desperately, groaning as the armor chaffed knees and bottom. "MOVE THOSE LEGS! Or you'll be terminated, you soft sack of flab! Are your rooms comfy, Jonny?" she addressed Jon as he ran in place.

"Where are Wednesday and that dashing Ser Lotus?" Lord Gomez asked.

"She wanted to help dress his wounds, which weren't severe though Fester was demanding the surgeon let him hack the leg off with his hatchet. So he could mount it for Wednesday as a trophy of her prowess."

"That Fester, an indulgent uncle if there ever was one." Gomez noted.

"I'm a bit worried about Wednesday, Gomez." Morticia noted. "I think she may have developed a bit of a crush on Ser Lotus."

"Really? Well, he is reputed to be one of the three handsomest men in the Kingdom, Jamie Lannister and I being the other two, not necessarily in that order."

"I would agree as to order…" Morticia beamed. "But you do know the rumors about Ser Lotus?" she eyed him.

"And the cows? No, that was Ser Arnold…" Gomez reflected. "Oh…Those rumors…" he nodded, sagely.

….

Meanwhile, just north of the great Wall blocking the prosperous Southlands of Westeros and the not so prosperous but still fairly pleasant Midlands and the somewhat grim but bearable and offering great skiing and vistas for tourists, lower North from the ever wintry, icy, generally unbearable in an era of medieval technology, upper North…Oddly yet still south of the delightfully pleasant and prosperous Essosian Free City of Braavly across the Sailable Sea, a party of Black Rangers from the order of the Night's Watchers has come across something rather disturbing…

"It's not so much that the guts of these wildling kids and their families were on display…" the reporting Ranger noted to his young but serotypically arrogantly foolish commander Ser Pompeous of Oafly. "It was when the kids, then the others sucked them back up inside and started moving around…Especially when the decapitated infant put its head back and started crawling towards me, shoving its guts back in as it did."

"Nonsense, you damned fool." Ser Pompeous sneered. "You were drinking and sleeping or just spazzing out. Next you'll be telling us the legends of Blue-White Walker Zombie Guys leading such dead people are true and that you saw a UFO and were taken aboard and anally probed, like Ser Gorg last year."

"Well, Commander, Ser Gorg still says…"

"I tell you what, you miserable turnip, ex-con, and thief…"

"No, sir…That's Lesley here, I'm the bastard disposable son of a noble house…"

"Oh, right…Sorry. No offense intended." Apologetic look. "Anyway, I'll tell you what, you miserable bastard…When I turn around and am immediately eviscerated by a dead girl with blue eyes who still manages to be kinda hot though frozen pale, backed by a horde of other dead people, holding in their eviscerated guts as you described so graphically, led by a rather commanding if zombified Blue-White Walker guy on a dead horse that's even more shit-kicking terrifying than the dead people, and that dead baby takes its head off and the head says "Hi, guys!"….I'll believe…" he eyes the fear-paralyzed motley crew of hapless misfits he'd rather foolishly…But then arrogantly foolish was his nature…Agreed to lead into the deadly North of North. "What?" he turned to face said dead girl offering him a blank, bright blue-eyed stare and rather fetching smile before she sliced his head off.

No talking head of baby though, although everything else did fit his scenario, the dead charging and overrunning the party in seconds as the Blue-White Walker leader on said dead and yes, most terrifying, horse nodded to the boy who'd seen them initially.

If I were you, his look saying…

I'd be…

The boy wisely heeding the free advice, running like a maniac for the Wall…Where he paused at the open gate only to suggest they consider closing it as all legions of Hell were on his heeds and continued on, passing through the gate on the other side to the South…

"Hey! You need a pass, hey! I've got your name!" the elderly guard on duty at the South gate, Ser Shakesalot Wetpalmy, calling after him.

"Well, that's one more for ax practice…" he sighed to the steward on duty with him. "Send word south. Say, what do you suppose freaked him out so?"

"Bet he saw Ser Gorg's UFO…" the steward nodded solemnly, sporting his "I Want To Believe" T-shirt under his open, heavy fur coat..


	6. Chapter 6

Game of Thrones Tales: Lannister Family Values

Summary: In an alternative universe, King Robert calls on a different old friend and brother to assist him. But whose decency, kindness, and sense of honor, while a bit different from Ned Stark's are equally strong. But are the family values of House Addams a match for the ruthless Lannisters?

Part V…

House Addams courtyard…

Sound of "Chariots of Fire" theme played by a group of minstrels as the young men, boys, and Ser Portia and several mostly poorly disguised girls run in place in slow mo accompaniment to the music, Lady Addams' choice.

"Slow it down! Feel that agonizing weight of iron and inferior medieval steel, you worthless pussies! You scum!" Lady Addams called.

"Jonny, if you start to feel sick, just go over and lie down." She noted to Snowed, fond smile.

"Ser Arnold! Pick it up, you miserable mound of garbage! 'Terminator III' aren't you? You've heard what I did to your grandfather, the first 'Terminator' when he fled our ranks at the Battle of Vertigo Pass?! WELL?!" 

"Ja. You cut his arms off, then his legs, then crushed him under a millstone, ma'am!" Ser Arnold, quaking a bit...

"And your father, 'Terminator II', when he fought on the wrong side during the Greatjerk Rebellion at the Battle of Corpse-Strewn Beach?!"

"You…Threw him into a vat of molten iron…Ma'am…" voice quavering…

"He got a new suit of armor that day…" she noted grimly. "As for you, I'll be creative if we ever face off in battle…Just to show you I don't play favorites, if you and Ms. fancy-armor skirt here, Ser Portia…" Ser Portia wilting under her glare… "Ever betray our House, I'll slice both your heads off and sew them on each other's corpses and use you both for target practice! You get me, Ser Arnold?!"

"J-j-j-ja…Ma'am…" shaking…

"Branded Stark!" she turned to Bran, still running in place with his brothers… "Sorry about your parents but don't think because of that and the fact you're cute enough to eat and the brother of these other cuties Robbed and Jon that you'll be cut any breaks here! I'll get you, my pretty, if you step out of line once…And your little direwolf, too!" she noted grimly. Fond pat to head.

A trumpet fanfare from outside the great front gate…A bit feeble, as if the trumpeteers had been slogging through a nightmarish wasteland of swamp and bog for days…

"Ah…" Lord Gomez on the roof with Morticia to "discuss important matters" raising his head from Morticia's deathly pale breast. "The King, I know his trumpet."

"ADDAMS!" the loud, ear-shattering bellow far louder than the trumpets… "Open the fuck up in the name of your King!"

"Good ole Bob…Ahead of schedule as always." Gomez nodded. Looking to see Fester eagerly running across roof with pot of boiling oil. "Fester?! It's King Robert!"

"Not till he gives the password, he's not…!" Fester cried, eyeing the group below over the battlement stones…

"But we don't have a password…" Lord Gomez called.

"Tough luck for him then!" Fester's reply as he lifted the pot to the opening in the stone.

….

Having dodged the boiling oil, and being restored to some joviality by it's splattering on the screaming Joffrey, the newly arrived King Robert Barfthereon I was greeting the lineup of Addams family, retainers, and servants…And, "Thanks, there, Thing" taking the offered hot towel to wipe the road muck from his huge face, the Stark wards and visitors.

"Gomez…You pisspotted shithead, you're looking well, kept hard and lean from the miserable conditions up here, eh?" he greeted Addams with hard stare.

"And you've lost some weight, Bob…" Gomez eyed him.

"Yeah, routine cares of state, worthless son and heir, possible return of the old dynasty by invasion looming, bitch of a wife, miserable in-laws. It's wearin' on a man." Sigh. "Fortunately, there's plenty where that came from, eh?" he shook great belly jovially.

"Morticia, lovely as ever…Tell me, we've never…" he eyed Lady Morticia who shook head, nervously. Gomez looking back to them…

"Right, good…I didn't think so but I'm trying to get a full count of my bastards…See if any might do better than that idiot so-called son of mine on the throne. Ok, scratch the Addamses, you brain dead twerp!" he called back to Ser Lancil who made note. "Truly grand to see you…"

"And this is our son and heir, Pugsly…" Lady Morticia indicated the unusually red-faced Pugsly in his armor who'd been attempting crunches and running round the Keep under her mother-in-law's shrieked commands all morning.

"A fine stout lad…Kill anyone yet?" Robert addressed him. "Wish my worthless shite of a son and heir had enough balls to be worth asking, but no chance of that." He moved on, Pugsly beaming under the royal approval.

"And you…Robbed Stark…I know you." Robert nodded at Robbed. "Terrible thing about your dad, lad. Bad grapes, I hear. That Walter Frey always was a cheap bastard when it came to wine and entertainment and whores. You want him dead? Done."

"Well, Your Grace…" Robbed, carefully. "I want justice for my parents of course…But not without a full investigation and just hearing. Father and Mother would want it that way."

"I suppose they would…Seems a waste of coin and time to me…" Robert shrugged. "But, so be it…When we do the formalities and chop Frey and his whole ugly brood of turds to fish bait following the guilty verdict?"

"Well, I thought perhaps after I check on my sisters in Winterfalls and leave my trusted "foster brother"/captive Fearing Greatjerk here in charge on oath of utter loyalty till death or his clan demands otherwise…Though first I did promise Ser Walter to marry one of his incredibly ugly daughters and come to his next wedding, since he lost his own new bride at the same time as my sainted mother." Robbed noted.

"Fine, whatever…Someone make a note, we'll need a jury to find Ser Walter guilty in about a month! I must say I won't miss that putrid clan." Robert moved on.

"Wuss ex-traitor's son…" he nodded to Fearing who gave groveling bow…

"Ah, Branded…Another reason for me to lament ever putting my thing in that cunt of a cunt of a wife…Good to see you, boy. Sorry about your dad. Still climbing everywhere?"

"Ay, Your Grace…" Bran nodded. "Nothing like going all over the place, peering in on everyone's secrets constantly."

"Great…And you, Ricketts, another reminder to me of the worthlessness of my own sons, though Tommen's not too bad, doesn't get my blood pressure to the roof every time I see him." Pat…

He moved on… "And who are you?" he addressed Wednesday, she in her trademark black but having donned a necklace of gardenias.

"This is my daughter, Wednesday, Your Grace…" Morticia noted.

"You don't look like a girl…You look like that lesbian in training Arya Stark…You're not her, eh? Even she reminds me of how utterly worthless that heir of mine is." He regarded her. "Any chance you want to be heir to the Seven Kingdoms? Ned Stark refused to let me adopt his tykes and your brother's got to inherit here, you'd be my last hope of leaving the kingdom to some worthy not one of my bastards?"

"I want to marry, Your Grace…Ser Lotus Markwell." Wednesday noted.

"Wednesday!" Morticia frowned. "Far too soon to talk about matches."

"Sounds like a good match to me, politically…Lotus seems a bit on the gay side to me, but I'm no proper judge except in the case of my worthless son, who might be worth something if he were gay rather than a twisted sick puppy of a pervert. Well, we'll see what the Markwells say and maybe we can do the bloody thing, eh? How's that, girl?"

"Thank you, Your Grace…" Wednesday beamed.

(Meanwhile in Kings' Landing, that den of iniquity and pioneer in high-speed communications…

"I thought you might like to know, Middlefinger…" Lord VeryMuchs eyed him in the Hall of the Small Council during a short coffee break from an incredibly tedious meeting on finances, education, and sewage in which Grand Maester Purile had displayed his erudition and eloquence for nearly four agonizing hours.

"Not one more word on sewage, VeryMuchs…I don't even want to scheme to control the profits thereon anymore…" MIddlefinger sighed.

"No, I think we both can agree to leave that to Purile…I have other news of real interest. My little birds tell me that a sudden shift in power may be in the offing as a result of the usual haphazard governance of King Robert…" finger raised. "It seems there is an alliance in the wind between the daughter of the House Addams, Wednesday, and Ser Lotus Markwell of Doome…"

"Markwell…Of Doome? But isn't he?" Middlefinger eyed VeryMuchs.

"Flaming…Not that by the King's decree of 224 that there's anything wrong with that. But in any case, Ser Lotus is ambitious enough to go through with the marriage to secure his House Markwell a new power base in the North. A stepping stone to his becoming King, potentially…Or at least a Kingmaker when King Robert should meet his untimely but increasingly expected demise."

"Zounds…This news could upset all my fiendish schemes, the cogs rolling, the dice spinning…"

"I think you mean cogs spinning, dice rolling, my friend."

"Right…I come from a small place, we didn't experience much culture. I make cultural reference mistakes sometimes…Thanks for catching me." 

"Not at all…"

"Say, when did you learn of this? My informants haven't heard anything of this."

"Five minutes ago…And the decision was made ten minutes earlier when the King met the girl at Swampflood."

"Fifteen minutes? You got this in fifteen minutes from more than a thousand miles to the North?"

"I have my ways, Lord Belloq." Mysterious look, folding of arms. "Shall I leave you to another monologue on the need to thwart this match or face destruction?"

"Hmmn…? Oh, no…You've covered it and I'm exhausted after listening to Purile for four hours. I'm for lunch and a little nooky at my Brothels R' Us HQ. Don't suppose you'd?"

"Afraid not…I must take my pleasures…In other ways." Mysterious look.

"Really…?"

"Nothing like a fire, a good book, and a glass of claret." VeryMuchs beamed.

"You know, that sounds good…I do get a bit weary of my girls every day after day. Might I join you after lunch?"

"It would be my pleasure…And I can hope, my profit."

"Admire the way you always have those balls in the air, VeryMuchs. Oh, sorry…Didn't mean to remind you." Apologetic tone.)


	7. Chapter 7

Game of Thrones Tales: Lannister Family Values

Summary: In an alternative universe, King Robert calls on a different old friend and brother to assist him. But whose decency, kindness, and sense of honor, while a bit different from Ned Stark's are equally strong. But are the family values of House Addams a match for the ruthless Lannisters?

Part VI…

Swampflood courtyard…Where the royal procession continued…Even as Lady Addams continued to put the fear of the Gods into the knights and soldiers of the guard not required to join the reception line. Even those in the line still marching in place in terror of her reprimands.

"Queen Cersei…" Gomez bowed as Cersei, on her twin brother Jamie's arm passed, extending hand to be kissed. "An honor to have you…" he kissed hand.

She giving eager look…Really…? Jamie sighing, rolling eyes.

"…in my home."

Oh…? Lewd smile…

"…Sleeping with your husband, together."

Oh.

"How's your usual raging PMS by the way? I believe King Robert noted you were firmly in its grip."

"Barely under control, but thanks for reminding me…" she glared.

"And this must be your son, Robert's heir who bears him no resemblance whatsoever, Prince Joffrey…" Lord Gomez, smiling at Joffrey who, now beginning to recover from oil splattering and the general horror of a week's slog through the swamplands while being constantly berated by his father and alternately smothered and berated by his mom, was resuming his normal persona of arrogant sneering jackass alternating with sniveling, attention-starved, father-worshipping twit.

"Fine boggy shithole of a place you have here, Lord Addams." Sneer. "When I am King, I'll have it burned to the ground, your women raped, your sons beheaded, your people tortured to death, if there's the slightest question of your loyalty. And I might just do it anyway for kicks…To prove I'm my father's son in my twisted craving for his approval."

"Nice to know we'll have the same firm government your father's brought to the land, my Prince." Lord Addams nodded.

"My father will be running things of course…So no need to worry about my little nephew Caligula here beyond a certain degree of mass murder till Dad can take the reins. How are you, distant cousin?" The rich voice coming from the next figure in the royal line-up, the only in-law Robert could tolerate, owing to his rapier, ribald wit and their joint loathing for and ability to piss-off Queen Cersei, Tyrion Lannister, the more diminutive member of the Lannister clan.

"Tyrion…Good ole Cousin Imp…" Gomez, jovially shaking hands. "So glad you could tear yourself away from those entrancing sewers and cisterns of Casterly Rock…"

"And the whores, Cousin Gomez…Do not forget the whores…" Tyrion wagged finger. "The unemployment rate in Lannisterport is up 62% while I'm away."

"Someone mention whores?! Where are they?!" King Robert's bellowing voice from the end of the line, where he was now engaged in trying to find a chair capable of sustaining his bulk.

"On their way as we speak, Bob!" Gomez cheerily called. "Just hoping most don't drown in the bogs getting here."

"Good! Cause Gods know I need a decent fuck after being trapped with this bitch of mine for a week on the road!" Robert called back.

Cersei grimacing…

"That would be a tragedy…" Tyrion nodded to Addams, shaking head.

Joffrey having managed a reasonable degree of grace in accepting Lady Morticia's greeting had moved on to Lord Pugsly.

"You are the most disgustingly fat blob of a turd I've ever seen, you red-faced, vomitous pustule." he addressed Pugsly. "And I bet I could take you in thirty seconds if I held steel in my hand…And my guard here, the hideously deformed Airdale…" he turned to Ser Cyst de la Boil, his bodyguard and famed knightly hit man. "…Was ready to stab you in the back."

"F-you, prick. Your Highness." Pugsly, glaring. Joffrey backing away in sniveling terror, hiding behind his huge guard.

"Ser Cyst?! Carve this fat side of pork into bacon for the pigs to eat as a kind of ironic revenge for their kind!" Joffrey fumed.

"Sir…Highness…" the Airdale sighed. "This is a goodwill visit, no killing allowed except in case they try to kill you. And King Robert says to let them have a good crack."

"Dog! Airdale!" Joffrey fumed. "I gave you an…" he looked over and saw Wednesday in line, following the line of Stark boys, each one a candidate for immediate hanging or burning when he took the throne…

(Cue romantic love music…Your choice…)

"Who the dickens is that angel, Airdale?" he turned to the Airdale who looked over. "You mean that treacherous son of a former traitor and current hostage of the Starks, your Highness?"

"Oh…I thought the one in black with the dead eyes and flat, unglossy hair was a girl…" Joffrey sighed. "Perhaps I am gay after all…" he brightened. "Father's always saying that would be a distinct improvement…"

"Oh, that one…" the Airdale nodded. "That's Wednesday Addams, daughter of the House. Kinda a runtier version of that spunky Stark girl, in my opinion."

"Shut up, dog…And guide me to her ravishing self…" Joffrey insisted. "I'll have you assassinated after the wedding, lardball." He noted to Pugsly who hissed at him… Causing him to back away in terror.

"Robbed Stark…" Cersei had reached Robbed in the line. "So phonily sorry to hear of your parents' tragic demise. If you're ever lonely in that big dark ole keep of Winterfalls, don't hesitate to send for me."

"Your Grace…" Robbed bowed. "Your sincere compassion for me and my family ensures that we will continue our tradition of foolishly trusting you and yours to keep your solemn oaths and pledges."

"I can take you…" "I can take you…" "I can take…No, don't…Please…Pleasee…" Joffrey, addressing each of the Starks in turn but backing away from young Ricketts as Ricketts innocently offered him a hand as he stumbled in the mire.

"Hey there, beautiful." Joffrey, having reached a frowning Wednesday.

"Get lost, fuckface…Your Highness. I heard you talking to my brother." She glared.

"Oh, that was just boyish camaraderie, my lady." He noted. "Please, accept this jeweled dagger I stole from some old biddy at court last week as a pledge of my heart…" he offered dagger, even deigning to turn the handle her way. "…Or you can have my Airdale here as your personal slave for life. Whatever you prefer."

"I don't want anything from you, turd. Your Highness." She curtsied.

"Your voice is like the delicate song of angels upon a field of pure gold…" he noted.

"Aren't you supposed to marry Sansa Stark?" she frowned

"Yeah, but she's so lame…I want you." He hissed. "I can have her killed after the wedding once I secure her lands and bannerpeople. I mean, of course after I first crush her brothers in a civil war if I can't get them assassinated beforehand."

"I'm marrying Ser Lotus Markwell." She sniffed.

"Oh, great…I won't even have to have him killed before the wedding." Joffrey beamed. "He won't mind us fooling round…Though once Sansa's dead, he croaks."

"He's a great and noble knight and you're a pussy." She glared. "Get away from me or I'll have my swamp thing get you. And if you think a Stark direwolf is bad…"

"You'll come round…After I become King and torture your family…" Joffrey, confidently. "Given Lotus is gay, I can wait. You'll still be a virgin."

"Piss off, turd-face! Your Highness." Wednesday curtsied again, but her eyes were on Ser Lotus standing with the Kingsguard…And eyeing Jamie Lannister desperately.

"Idiot!" Cersei had come back to pull at Joffrey, taking him aside a moment. "You're to marry Sansa Stark and seize her lands. Forget Wednesday Addams, at least till we deal with the Starks. Though you'll probably then have to marry Margaery Anne Boleyn, of the South's Boleyn House to secure their alliance."

"But Mother…I want Wednesday…!" Joffrey insisted. "Can't I at least take her and ravish her, then discard her after a few years as my mistress? Though a Cleopatra like that…I probably would never discard." He gazed fondly back at the Wednesday now waving to Ser Lotus.

"Oh…Ravish?" Cersei shrugged. "Sure, if and when you can manage it. I don't know about the mistress thing. Your grandfather is rather strict about such things and he'll be at court after your father croaks and you take the throne."

"I don't need Grandfather to run my kingdom for me…" Joffrey began…Fuming as his mother chuckled.

"Right…" she laughed.

"One day…When I'm King. No one is going to tell me what to do! Except Wednesday, if she wants." He raged.

"Oh, shut up, you twit." Cersei sneered. "I adore you as my widdle cuddkins first baby but your 'father' is so right about you." She moved on, resuming line.

"Had to fix his hair…You know how kids are." She noted to the waiting Ser Arnold.

Well…Hello…She beamed at his handsome physique. He nervously ignoring her appraising stare, maintaining quiet dignified attention, while still running in place, feeling Lady Addams' gimlet eye upon him.

"Your sister has an eye for a beautiful piece of man…" Ser Lotus, fondly to Jamie who sighed.

"And a habit of crying out, 'Oh, gods Robert, do it, do it now, give it to me, Robert, my King, my only!'…" he noted.

"Really?…I've done that myself a few times when alone at night…" Ser Lotus noted.

….

The formalities over, King Robert had requested Lord Gomez join him in visiting the tomb of Gomez' late and at least by Robert, endlessly remembered, lamented, and fantasized about, sister, Cecily Addams. Dead since the great Rebellion that had put Robert on the throne.

"Why'd you stick her in here?" Robert sighed, looking round the dank, gloomy, rat-infested crypt.

"Well, tradition, old sport. And if we'd buried her in the swamp, she'd be constantly bobbing up in rather a putrid state."

"Right. Point taken…" Robert eyed the carved likeness. "There she is…Beautiful as ever…"

"Actually she's one over, old fellow…That's my grandmother, Lucretia Addams, the one who was flayed to death for poisoning her husbands. Though she did look good after loosing all that weight." Gomez beamed at the image.

"Right…There she is…So lovely. What's that in her hand?" Robert eyed the stone hand which held what appeared to be a piece of wood or iron, carved in the stone.

"Oh, that…Well…You know the legends about Cecily being a Slayer of Vampires…" Gomez shrugged. "It was even said that it wasn't Raging Targaryen who killed her but one of her undead foes…And that he was just making sure she wouldn't rise from the dead when he was forced to flee her bedside after the capital fell. Just before he ran into you…" he eyed Robert.

"When I carved him into four packages and had them all hand delivered to his crazy father, the Mad King, yeah." Robert nodded. "But that's all legend and myth about the Slayer thing, right?"

"I don't know, Bob. Cecily was up to some strange things when we were kids. I never quite knew what to believe. And there were those bite marks on her corpse…"

"Where Targaryen bit her, while ravishing her…I've done it myself, guys do that in the heat of passion." Robert grimly shook head. "I still relish the thought of how I carved him up as he pleaded for mercy, insisting there was nothing between him and Cecily, he'd just been helping her save the Kingdoms from the Vampire menace when they bit his father and drove him mad."

"Now that I don't buy…Aerys II was nuts from day one." Gomez noted.

"Exactly…All lies, Raging's stock in trade…He and his whole damned family deserved all they got."

"Well...Bob...Was a bit much, the kids and Raging's wife being ravished, then cut up by Lannister's goons." Gomez, carefully.

"Eh…Fortunes of war. It's what you do when you're a medieval King, part of the operating manual…Kill potential rivals of the enemy's side." Robert noted. "Still I would have spared the kids and kept them under lock and key in the dungeons where they could have suffered a slow and agonizing death…I suppose it is a shame when you look at it that way. Though I can't say I'm happy the Queen and two of her brats escaped to Essos. The kids are still alive you know…Little bastards. I'll have to deal with them before I croak. That panty-waisted son of mine will never manage it."

"Well, I'm sure you will, if necessary…And Joffrey shows more promise each time I see him."

"Eh…" Robert waved a hand. "But I didn't want to just see Cecily's rotting remains, Gomez, I think you know that. I've come here to seek your help in saving my kingdom…Your Kingdom."

"I did suspect something of the kind, Bob." Gomez nodded. "What's up…The Targaryen kids making trouble already?"

"Besides me underutilized penis?" Robert noted. "Well…The Targaryen brats can sit, actually, for now. I have troubles closer to home."

Much closer…He noted to Addams. "And while I had hoped to have both you and Ned Stark by my sides as the two new Hands of the King, since Ned was silly enough to get his foolishly naïve if honorable self killed, I'll obviously have to settle for just one unless I want to bring Ned's severed hand along, for ole times' sake…"

"Me, Bob? I'm no politician." Gomez shook head.

"I don't need a politician, Lord Addams. I need a loyal friend who'll stand by me but take none of my bullshit. I need you, Lord Hand. The kingdom needs Gomez Addams!"


	8. Chapter 8

Game of Thrones Tales: Lannister Family Values

Summary: In an alternative universe, King Robert calls on a different old friend and brother to assist him. But whose decency, kindness, and sense of honor, while a bit different from Ned Stark's are equally strong. But are the family values of House Addams a match for the ruthless Lannisters?

Part VIII…

The next morning…

VIP guest lodging cottages of Swampflood…We'll leave the torches burning for ya…

"Hey, bro…" Jamie Lannister, his gleaming armor reflecting the morning sun's rays in the doorway… "Rise and shine…"

"Good Gods…Jamie…" Tyrion groaning at the dazzling light…Odd given Jamie was standing in the doorway. "What time is it?"

"What you have need to bother with hours of the day unless they be cups of sack, legs of a fat capon, and the sun itself a flame-haired wench in a taffeta dress, like your friend here." Jamie, nodding to said 'friend', senior village prostitute, Ros…Who grinned back, waving. Hey, Jim…Welcome back…

"Yes, well enough of the attempt at Shakespeare, brother…I was hoping to be awakened by my lady Ros here, my latest candidate for utterly unacceptable to Father bride. In my favorite fashion, eh, my little flame-haired alarm clock?" he fondly patted the beaming Ros.

"Well, we're expected at the Addams' all-day tourney/feast/orgy for the King, in fact we'd've started already but Bob's sleeping in. I'm afraid he's not quite the young carouser and lech he was once. Plus Cersei won't get off his sleeping form and keeps ordering servants away under penalty of immediate burning." Sigh.

"The course of true incestuous love never runs smoothly, dear boy." Tyrion shrugged. "But I still have a long list of whore wife candidates to go through…No offense, Lady." He addressed Ros, who smiled, shrugging… "You are on my A list, I assure you."

"Naturally…" she noted smugly. "But while being a lady, wife to a mighty Lannister with all that power and wealth might appeal to some…I kinda like being footloose and fancy-free and an independent working girl. Though if I were going to marry anyone, my little Lord, on the basis of sex alone, you'd be the one." Grin.

"What do you mean to imply about me and Cersei, brother?" Jamie, perturbed as Ros rose, gathering her flimsy clothes.

"Imply?" Tyrion stared…"Nothing…Everyone with eyes in Westeros knows you and Cersei have been carrying on for years…Though of course she carries on with everyone. She even came on to me once when we were traveling together on a goodwill tour for Father to comfort the surviving victims of his latest massacre."

"What?" Jamie blinked.

"Oh, gods know I'd never do it with that skank…" Tyrion reassured him. "Who knows what she's carrying the way she sleeps around? Give me a nice clean, well-medically supervised, prostitute any day. And speaking of which, I have my line of candidates to interview, so if you would." He waved.

"Yeah, I figured…So to speed things along as Bob likes to have your rapier wit at table, I brought the whole corps." Jamie, stepping aside to allow a number of ladies to enter. Given the famed Imp's sexual prowess and liberal purse, not by any means all professionals as Ros, sniffing, noted.

"Bro…" Tyrion smiled fondly. Jamie beaming, giving thumb's up as the ladies leapt on bed.

"First, ladies…" an attendant with chart stepping forward. "Have any of you ever had the following diseases?"

"I'll be leaving you to it." Jamie noted. Tyrion waving as the attendant ran down his list.

…

At table in their bedroom, with Lord Gomez, Lord Morticia, managing to look even more depressed and sad than usual in her black morning gown, head on hands, pensive.

"Must you accept, Gomez? It means leaving all this for the sordid cesspit that is the capital." She noted, sadly.

"I'm afraid so, Tish." Sigh. "Robert needs me and he and I and Ned were always like that…" he locked fingers together. "For three months, we really were after the battle of Spatterfield…Our wounds fused as we lay for dead on the battlefield for a week and we couldn't be separated until Mad Maester Queerbird performed his radical new form of antiseptic surgery."

"Yes, I remember…Making love to you was rather difficult those months."

"But as always…We managed." He eyed her, raised eyebrows.

"So I will be left here, with the children…" she sighed.

"What? Certainly not…Why do you think I put Mama in charge of the guard. She can hold down the Keep here with Pugsly to act as Lord in my place. You and Wednesday will come with me to Kings' Landing."

"Oh." She nodded. "Well, much as I detest the capital, if you put it that way…"

"And at least you'll be able to spend time with your old friends…Cersei, that rogue Middlefinger…young Margeary Anne Boleyn when she visits, her malicious, deadly grandmother Oleander Boleyn, her slimy, pedophilic, if elegant father Thomas, and all those other charming people. Plus it'll be your chance to work your magic on the Barftherons' marriage. Cara, you're my best adviser, my ballast, my chopping block, as well as my hot sex partner and companion for life, I couldn't face the pitfalls and dangers of the capital without you."

"Oh, Gomez…Ma petite chere…"

"Tish…Three in a row…I may have a coronary…"

"Then, we should get you to bed…" roguish smile. "At least till the servants tell us that Robert has escaped Cersei and is ready to orgy. By the way, did the local ladies of easy virtue arrive yet?"

"Late last night. Good ole Cousin Imp, Tyrion's been evaluating them ever since. I'd say, given the noise from the guest quarters, he's finding them satisfactory. Now, my dear Cara…" wolfish grin…

…..

The Great Hall of the Keep of Swampflood…

"Eh, Louie, Louie…Oh, oh…We gotta go now, ya, ya, ya, yah…!" Chorus of carousers, led by King Robert at huge table covered with food and drink, much of it being spilled now…And immediately cleaned by the phalanx of servants led by the frowning, sighing Lurch, and with the help of Thing, from strategically located boxes on the great table…

"Now this be an orgy, Gomez!" Robert raising tankard of ale in one hand, lusty wench in the other…

Cersei, holding his drinking arm, arm-in-arm, grimacing a bit as she tried to maintain a conversation with Morticia at her side.

"Wonderful weather you're having for once…" she noted.

"Yes…" Morticia sighed. "It's appallingly pleasant all that blue sky and warmth drying the bogs a bit."

"Still the Starks maintain that Winter…" Robbed, seated next to Cersei, insistent.

"Right, yeah…It's coming…We all get that." Cersei nodded. "It usually does, following Summer and then Autumn…Meaning it could still be a few years off."

Oh!...She groaned as Robert grabbed for yet another boar's leg and butt, jerking her arm.

"Leggo you silly twat!" he snapped at her. "You nearly made me drop me boar's butt and knock me dearie here's head on the table. You all right, what-the-frig's yer name?" he turned to lusty wench #4, a brunette.

"Maisie, yer Grace…" smile.

"Right, Maisie…How'd you like ta be me Queen in place of this trampy whore of a Lannister's cunt?" Robert asked.

"Oooh…I be not fit for such grace, yer Grace."

"Eh, they all say that…" Robert sighed. "Probably all bought off by yer frig of a father, that miserable miserly old kingmaking sob." he glared at Cersei. 

"That sob finances your debaucheries and your Kingdom." She glared back. "But if you want to talk finance, we could take our leave and go discuss it in our bedroom. I'm sure everyone is anxious to end this sordid display of medieval piggery but too polite to say so in Our presence."

Actually I'm having a ball…Several knights thought, watching…If not busily wenching on Robert's discards.

"Gods…" Robert grimaced. "The thought of having to be alone with you at night is enough to make me puke…Though perhaps it's as much me overindulgence this time."

"Ser Lotus!" Cersei cried. "The pink bismuth for His Grace! At once!" turning eagerly to Robert. "We should retire to our bedchamber, Bobbie…You need to rest your overworked tummy. I could rub it…For hours…" she beamed.

"I'd as soon spit on you…" he frowned.

Oh…An offer to exchange a bodily fluid? She beamed at his angry face. When he's not incoherent with drink in the middle of the night? Why that's the sweetest thing he's said to me since he came in and groused that we'd best try to conceive one more damned pup, given the worthlessness of Joffrey and the bare tolerability of Tommen. And after we'd had mindless ravishment, I went as usual to Jamie…To conceal Robert's inability to make a child…His so-called bastards all being my doing, I telling each preggers whore he's been with to claim it was his. I mean, out of my loathing for him and desire to further my House by substituting Jamie's and my offspring into his line, of course, she corrected…

"Eh, let me to me whoring, bitch. But I'll be taking that bismuth, thanks Lotus…Flower…" sneer at Ser Lotus which Cersei eagerly shared in.

Oh, how I treasure these moments when we're as one…She thought. Much as I loath and abhor him, sweetest of darlings.

…


	9. Chapter 9

Game of Thrones Tales: Lannister Family Values

Summary: In an alternative universe, King Robert calls on a different old friend and brother to assist him. But whose decency, kindness, and sense of honor, while a bit different from Ned Stark's are equally strong. But are the family values of House Addams a match for the ruthless Lannisters?

Part IX…

Theme of the approach to a Cylon base star, from the original Battlestar Galatica series…

Scene closing on the grim black, red, and gold of Casterly Rock, famed and infamous lair of the Lannister clan…

Black storm clouds above, constantly shooting lightning and rain…On the castle battlements red and gold lion banners proudly defying the very elements. Flocks of ravens bearing messages to and from the nerve center of the Lannister Empire constantly swarming round…

Inside, a red-robed honor guard forms in the Great Hallway, leading to the mammoth Office of the Lord of Casterly Rock, Tywin Lannister, who now emerges from his all-black marble privy, magnificent in bearing, his black armor with red and gold emblem gleaming…Black cloak draping his shoulders as he strides confidently and powerfully along…Nodding curtly to senior members of the Guard posted along the way…

(Theme of the Imperial) March playing on trumpet as he moves down the Hallway and the huge doors to his mammoth office are opened…

Where, inside, a vast window offers a spectacular, if rainy, panoramic view of the countryside below the great fortress, including the prosperous, if fear-benumbed port of Lannisterport, the prosperous, lush, if fear-benumbed farms and ranches of the village of Lannisterville, the gleaming, prosperous mighty, if fear-benumbed towers of the city of Lannisteropolis…As Lannister surnamed "the Lion" pretty naturally, takes his seat in a huge chair of mahogany, beautifully carved in the shape of a crouching lion, also naturally. A servile assistant in black and red robes steps forward, brushing her long blonde hair back, frantically putting her scrolls and parchment letters to be read or signed in order under one arm, then sweeping back red cloak with other arm, falling on one knee…

"Speak…" Lannister commands… "And hello, Tywina. Did you enjoy your skiing vacation at Winterfalls?" grim look.

"Very much, Uncle. The Family Stark remain wonderful hosts despite the recent tragic events. The skiing, the sleigh rides, the ice fishing and snow stag hunts with the direwolf hounds, just grand…And the Starks remain such great singers, really a neat time." Niece Tywina nods. "There are reports from the King's progress. He and his court have reached Swampflood, the seat of the Addams clan."

"Indeed…" Lannister, grimly, eyebrows raised.

"And we believe from our intelligence reports he persists in his plan to make Lord Gomez his new and sole Hand." She paused, trembling a bit as he rose, grimly, waving her to rise as well. She handing him the said reports.

"So I have foreseen…" he set the reports down on his desk after a brief thumbing, stepped to the window, staring out at the expanse of Lannisterdom before him…Turning back to face her. "There is a great disturbance in the political Forces since the death of Jon Arryn."

"Yes, Uncle…My Lord." Tywina, nervously nodding.

"What news of my daughter and son and that repulsive Imp…?" he eyed her, resuming his seat.

"Queen Cersei still seems bent on trying to prevent anyone from learning that Robert's bastards are not his own…While ensuring Joffrey's secure rise to the throne."

"Hmmn…No great problem…A virile and ruthlessly powerful king should be seen to have many bastards. People expect it. So long as no one questions Joffrey's rights…And therefore my nicer and more rational, as well as malleable, grandson, Tommen…To the throne. Which means we'll have to allow that psycho Joffrey to take the throne first." Drumming fingers on the massive desk, carved from the fired door of the last great castle to resist him in rebellion, 'Suck dick, Lannister!' still faintly visible on the surface to his grim amusement...We saw who 'sucked dick' in the end, sucka… "Not the best thing really but Politics requires such sacrifices, my dear. You must learn the reasoning behind such things and events if you are to remain in my service and be a proper junior member of the clan Lannister." Grim eyeing…

"Yes, Uncle…My Lord."

"What else? What of Jamie and…It?"

Uncle's such a good father…All the cares of running the Empire of the Clan Lannister on his head and it's always, how are the kids? First, she noted, fondly.

"Both well and safely arrived at Swampflood…

"There's a pity…I could have hoped the bogs would have swallowed up one of my problems…" he frowned. "I suppose It's drinking and whoring on a scale that puts King Robert to shame…" sigh.

"As always, my Lord." Nod.

"He would have had to cleverly invest his allowance in Addams' and Middlefingers' enterprises. He doesn't even have a large credit balance outstanding with the Bronze Bank now like Jamie and Cersei. I can't threaten to cut him off any longer." Grim drumming of fingers. "But save that burden to deal with later… Jamie's well, eh? No, uh…Romantic interests?" slightest of hopeful tones underlying the grim.

"He remains true to his vows, my Lord. With the usual allowances for minor escapades on a non-Tyrionian scale."

"Hmmn…Any chance one of those girls might be a serious thing? A lusty peasant whore might be just the right transfusion of sturdy blood into our clan. And it would be a chance to get Jamie to reconsider his vows."

Well that seems a bit unfair considering cousin Tyrion's whore peasant bride's casting out…She thought.

"Well…?" grim stare…

"Afraid not, my Lord…From all that our people can determine…" hesitating…

Grimmer stare, folding of hands… "I trust that does not mean opportunities for surveillance of my son and heir have been overlooked through someone's clumsiness. Jamie being in such need of my guidance."

"No, my lord Uncle…My Lord…We've had him watched as much as possible…His every move accounted for…As you've commanded."

"Good…" cold nod. "Then we can continue to dismiss these nonsensical rumors about him and my daughter as nonsense and bitter tales left over from the last dynasty, those creepy white-haired purple-eyed Targaryen perverted maniacs. Do wish the boy would get on with it though. Tyrion…" he paused. "That thing I must acknowledge as my own…" he corrected. "Has got the right spirit if too much of it."

"He's a pistol, Tyrion." Smile.

Grimmer stare…"A discredit to his name. A millstone round my neck. His name should never be mentioned unless I do so. Bear that to heart, girl."

"Yes, Uncle." Nervous nod.

"Even if he may be the one hope of our clan…You never heard that." He raised a finger…Grimmest stare yet.

"Yes, Uncle…My Lord." Bow.

"See that my usual belittling reprimand is dispatched to him along with this report." He tapped parchment in his hand. "And send a copy to Jamie…See the big words are exchanged for something easier to follow in his case."

"Yes, Uncle…My Lord."

"I suppose Cersei will be upset at not getting a copy…" Frown. "She needs to learn her place in the scheme of things…Not quite as capable as she feels she is…And not me in a dress. Still, she is Queen…Better make a copy for her too, but not to be presented to her until she asks for it. She always thinks her intelligence is better anyway, though it's not only crap intelligence, it's what my disinformation people put out for other clans as intelligence, indicating her spies are crap as well."

"Ummn…? Yes, my Lord."

"And what of the capital?" cold stare…

"The scheming of Middlefinger and Verymuchs and Grand Maester Purile, along with a bunch of lesser characters most of whom are too unimportant to mention, continue. Middlefinger seeks to overthrow the King for his own purposes, Verymuchs seeks to keep him on the throne for his own purposes, Purile was wondering which way you wanted him to blow."

"Senile old tool…" Lannister glared. "He ought to know I want Robert to stay. Our words may be 'Hear our triumphant roaring over the slaughtered corpses of our enemies' but in fact a kingdom…Any state, Tywina…Functions on compromise and alliance. And it's often best not to be seen as the public head honcho, Numero Uno, Big Cheese."

"You mean we use King Robert as our tool, sir? Uncle, sir?" she asked.

"Well, not exactly. He's too good a killer and battlefield general…And when he's not bored to tears with the detail work of being master of the realm, he's actually better at it than anyone but me and maybe…Another." Solemnly grim stare.

"Oh?" she blinked. "Uncle?"

"You wish to ask why I've never taken the throne and secured absolute power for myself?" he eyed her coldly.

"Actually I was going to ask if I could give you these and go to lunch…" she indicated the papers and scrolls. "But I'm guessing that's a no…" sigh.

"A good question…" he'd turned back to the window, ignoring her. "What happens to the animal which eagerly takes the lead alone from the pack?…The tree that rises tallest in its pride about the others?…The mushroom that dares defiantly grow in the light of the sun in advance of the others…?" he turned to face her again…

"Well…" she began…

"Yes…It gets picked off…Easy." Tywin nodded coldly.

"I was going to say that…" she nodded.

"We Lannisters hold all the real levers of power in this kingdom…Control of the finances and control of the mineral wealth…And our crucial wood energy resources and the horse post transit system. Yet despite bringing prosperity, peace, universal health care…And order…To the Kingdom, no one likes us now…Can you imagine how disliked we'd be if we wore the freaking crown, in our family name, too? Right…" he nodded grimly.

"The people would have no hope of redress against imagined crimes by us, excepting those damned Targaryen brats across the Sailable Sea. They'd rebel in hopes of splattering our kingly guts as the only option left. But…We keep another on the throne…Holding him in our financial vise grip, our family intertwined round him, his heirs of our blood as well as his…What's that?" grimmer stare as Tywina giggled.

(…and his, right…) Gulping as he glared coldly at her… "Uh, nothing, something in my throat, my Lord."

Uncle doesn't take to perversion well, even if it's to the family's benefit, mustn't forget that…She desperately reminded herself…

Tywin continuing after eyeing her coolly…"They focus their hopes and their anger and complaints on him. The last thing we really want is to have a Lannister name on the throne so long as we control all from behind the scenes."

"That's really clever, Unc…My Lord." Tywina nodded.

"Or as my great-great-great-great-grandfather Guido Lannisteria would say while mastering the dialect here after immigrating from the free island of Sicilia…And I always tell Jamie, it being a simpler, boiled down version of my philosophy of power… 'First you getta the money, then you gotta the power'…" he eyed his niece coldly.

"Whoa…" Tywina nodded, impressed.

"Still there's one thing that troubles me…" Tywin rose grimly…Staring out the vast panoramic window…

"Uncle?"

"I mean, look out there…" he waved arms. "Prosperity as far as eye can see…Peace…Universal health care…And my progressive tax policies on all the wealthy outside our clan in our lands combined with middle class tax cuts have kept the wealthy unable to oppress the poor and middle class and the lower 99% booming…" pause… Long stare…

"So where's the joy?"

"Uncle?"

"Look." He pointed to the empty Lannisville village square…The nearly empty but for sailors and workmen nervously scurrying about the Lannisterport docks. "No one is out there, singing and dancing, enjoying life, perhaps even offering a kindly word of praise for one Lannister." He noted grimly, slightest of sighs. "I never see any happy crowds…Everyone's always looking terrorized and oppressed when I go on procession through the towns and Lannisteropolis. It's rather discouraging, given the generally good economic news. Even the price of wood's been falling this year, we've even managed to declare energy independence from the Essos forest barons."

"Well, Uncle…" Tywina, nervously. "You do inspire a considerable degree of fear. Perhaps…"

"Yes…?" grim stare.

"If you just…Maybe…Smiled once in a while…People really are pleased with the economy, except of course the 1% who pretty much hate, but more importantly, and in their ambitious cases to your benefit, fear, you. I think…If you smiled just every now and then while going around…"

Grimmer stare…She blinking and quaking a bit…

"You do know I haven't smiled since your aunt died." He eyed her, then both glanced to the glorious portrait of a beaming, lovely blonde-haired Joanna Lannister in her youth, hanging over his rear office wall, above a huge fireplace black marble mantlepiece.

"So the guys…Cersei and Jamie…" Tywina agreed… "Tell me. Most of us younger nieces and nephews can't believe you ever did…"

Tywin strode back to the window, gazing out, arms clasped grimly behind his proudly erect back…

"Yes, when your aunt Joanna lived…Then I smiled…On my wedding day, my wedding night, the morning after, the birth of my children, my wife's birthday, the kids' birthdays, Sevenmas when we opened the presents, and occasionally when the kids said something clever or touchingly cute. But since your aunt Joanna's death, I do not smile. Nothing makes me smile. I just can't smile without her. That was our song, you know. 'I Just Can't Smile Without You'. And you know what I did to keep that song from ever being sung again after her death?" grim stare back to her…

Tywina trembling, dropping to one knee again, bowing head… "Yes, Uncle. It's a family legend."

(Cut to shot of Minstrel Barry de la Manilow being decapitated in the Lannisterville village square…)

"And the penalty remains death for anyone daring to sing it…" he noted, icily.

"Yes, Uncle…My Lord." She nodded, fervently, keeping head bowed, quaking…

"Still…" icy reflection. "It's not bad advice."

She looked up, relieved.

"Now if Jamie would just find himself capable of renouncing his silly oaths to the Guard, take some lusty young girl, noble, peasant, who cares so long as she can bear kids and has a little spirit...I might, just possibly…Crack a smile on his wedding day." Tywin noted grimly.

"That would be neat, Uncle…My Lord. We shall all pray the gods for such a happy day." Tywina, eagerly.

Then hesitated.

"Yes?" grim look.

"While we wait for Jamie to do his duty to the family and King Robert to collapse…About the capital? The scheming Middlefinger and Lord VeryMuchs and their schemes? Anything to be done there?"

"They keep each other in check, my dear." Tywin sneered. "Middlefinger is the more immediate danger having his hands on real economic power but VeryMuchs is the long-term danger as he is the smarter and his Targaryen ties overseas could be fatal, in years to come…Should the Targaryen brats prove capable and happen to reactivate one or more of their family's dragons by some bizarre sort of fire ceremony. But why should you think King Robert will collapse…? Or that it is desirable he should?"

"But didn't we want Joffrey secure on the throne to clear the way for Tommen? And didn't you have Jon Arryn and Ned Stark poisoned to take them out of the Game?"

"Joffrey, now, while he's still young enough to spend years ruining the Kingdom? Gods no…And why would I want good efficient Hands of the King dead, leaving me to have to put my hat in the ring, violating my own principle of staying firmly behind the throne?"

"Oh…But I thought…" Tywina, sensing displeasure…

"You thought…" grimly icy stare.

"Sorry my Lord…" she quaked.

Gods, my knee is starting to hurt…And I'm starved…She thought.

"I've no desire to unseat Robert…I wish him many years yet…And this elimination of two capable if dully loyal and foolishly honorable men brings Lord Gomez that manic genius and unknown quantity within a heartbeat of the Throne. That one man who could truly challenge our house."

"Really? I'd heard he was nuts."

"Nuts ain't the word, girl. A freaking maniac…But a financial wizard, inventive genius, and supreme warrior whose bizarrely accurate wild guesses have even surpassed my steady, grimly persistent climb to untold wealth and power. If he gains Robert's ear on a regular basis, who knows what could happen, but I wouldn't give two cents for the continuation of our horse transit monopoly."

"Oh, right…His railroad scheme…" she nodded. "But we own the land of the right of way to the capital…And most of the mineral resources of the Seven Kingdoms."

"Yes, but one new resource has eluded our grasp. A new substance, which Addams himself discovered, which potentially could change the power balance in our world. And someone, someone I don't know yet whom, has been securing that substance."

"Lord Addams? But he's never tried a bid for power like that…"

"Perhaps not…" grim stare… "Or perhaps he's been even more patient and far-seeing than even I. Anyway, until we know for sure what is going on…We must be Lannister cautious…Lannister restrained…Let Lord Addams establish himself in Kings' Landing and then make our move accordingly. You understand, niece?"

"Well…I suppose so, Uncle." She nodded.

"Well, just remember the words of Guido the Don… 'First…?'" he paused, eyeing her.

"…you getta the money, then you gotta the power.'?"

"Exactly so…" grim smile. "There's a good girl, why don't you go get some lunch and we'll take up where we left off this afternoon?"

"Thanks, Uncle." She nodded, with relief.

Say, wait... "Uncle Tywin? Did you just...?" she stared, stunned...

"Did I what?" grim stare...

"Uh, nothing..." she bowed, backing away...

I love doing that...He thought...Drives 'em crazy.

...


	10. Chapter 10

Game of Thrones Tales: Lannister Family Values

Summary: In an alternative universe, King Robert calls on a different old friend and brother to assist him. But whose decency, kindness, and sense of honor, while a bit different from Ned Stark's are equally strong. But are the family values of House Addams a match for the ruthless Lannisters?

Part X…

Swampflood Keep Dining Hall… "Orgy In Progress" sign on the great entrance door greeting the tall, grim man in the robes and armor of the Knights Who Wear Black Even Though White Would Make It Harder To See Them In The Snow, the honorable Black Night's Watchers of the Great Wall of the North. He gave the sign a gimlet-eyed look and shake of head, as did the Addams retainer, the faithful if ever depressed and hulking Lurch, who had admitted him at the castle's outer gate and led him here, with groan.

"Yessss…" Lurch nodded, indicating their shared discomfort with such frivolity, at any time and especially now and by the head of state. "I'll announce you, Ser Stark. Uuuuhhhhh…" he took off the sign and opened the door.

"FESTER! FESTER! FESTER!" the cry now from within…By most of the male company and not a few of the ladies, Lurch's and the said Black Night's Knight's sight being greeted by the spectacle of Uncle Fester demonstrating for the partyers, his unique ability to channel the power of Lord Gomez's lightning jar through his head and into a piece of copper in each ear which then acted as a glowing red magnet, attracting every thing metal, including tableware, swords, daggers, shields, and if he kept it up long enough, burning his ears slightly, armor, to him.

"Ser Benjy Stark, my Lord! Uuuuuhhhhhhhh…" Lurch announced.

"Ben, old man!" Gomez rose, dodging a flying sword snatched out of Ser Lotus' hand. His manly, dear hand, Wednesday thought, eyeing him from her seat. Joffrey in his next to her, watching Ser Lotus narrowly…Clutching fingers grimly… "Fester? Better turn it off before you get burns or a broadsword between the ears, dear fellow!" He cheerily called to a reluctant Fester. Addams moving to take Ser Benjy by the hand. "So great you could make it for the royal orgy." Both looked over to where Robert was dancing on table with wench #10 now, kicking food about as Cersei still attempted to make politely meaningless royal chatter with Morticia while dodging…

"Wanted to stop and check on my nephews." Ser Benjy nodded. "Just on my way back to the Wall with the latest round of romantic idiots, thieves, rapists, worthless sons, and assorted disposable unpersons and scum for whom life at the Wall is preferable to being sentenced to one of our hideous medieval punishments, including endless macho mocking of romantic idiots." Ser Benjy nodded. "Where in the company of men, in a man's world where nothing is given to you, like the liberal pinkos would like to, but is earned, from the government…In manly ways, alternating between ranging out in the vast frozen stepes of the Eternal Snowlands seeking poorly armed savage foes to kill and cooking and cleaning and acquiring a good knowledge of fine wines and cutlery at the Black Keep. For life, surviving through nothing but one's individual responsibility, generous grants from the Bill and Melinda Gates Foundation, the Edduard Stark Trust, the Lannister Foundation which invites you to share in the defense of the realm from mythical threats and marauding barbarians, the 90% government-funding of the Corporation for Public Defense, and contributions from people like you." Glance to the room and us in general…

"Sounds like a Lady Ayn Randian paradise…Complete with the social security and collective public works and infrastructure she claimed to scorn but eagerly used when she needed it." Gomez noted.

"Ay…" Ser Benjy looked round… "Boys." He nodded to the Stark boys. "Hey, Uncle Benjy!" multiple waves.

"The boys look well despite their recent crippling loss, Gomez." He noted.

"A little orgying can lift even the most crushed spirit, Ben. Robert's certainly always wonderful the way he lifts all cares from his burdened shoulders during these things." Nod in the direction of King Robert currently vomiting into a knight's proffered helmet, that of the Airdale's massive and much feared brother Ser Raging Pus de la Boil.

Robert catching sight of Joffrey in midboastful attempt to impress a profoundly bored and annoyed Wednesday with his "manly prowess" in swordplay and horseback stunts. The Airdale behind Joffrey rolling eyes.

Hmmn….Robert stared at helmet. Well, no reason to waste the opportunity to put the little shite of mine in his place…

"Joffrey!" he cried. "Time I made you a knight, get yer weak knee and candy ass down in the mire next to the table here and take up Ser Raging Pus de la Boil's helmet. Give it to me son, Ser Raging Pus…" he addressed the knight currently eyeing his puked-in helmet. Ser Raging Pus de la Boil at the King's command and with considerable satisfaction, handing helmet to the summoned Joffrey, now kneeling by the table, deep in mire, gingerly taking helmet.

"Well? What are you waiting for?" Robert eyed the nervous Joffrey "A knight needs a helmet. Clap it on, you little shit! Don't you have the balls ta be a knight?!"

"But…Father?"

"Right, why even bother to ask…No balls at all…Like your real father, eh?"

"Father…?" Joffrey, staring…

"Daddy's just foolin' with you, precious." Cersei, insistent smile. "But go on and try to show a stone, if you can find one…" she frowned.

"Mother?…Father?" Joffrey looked at each in turn.

"Get that helmet on, you little pussy-whipped wimp! Or I'll have it melted down and poured on your head and we'll see if you do better than the just-in reports of that Targaryen kid, Viciously Targaryen."

"What?" Cersei stared.

"Has something happened to one of my most feared rival contenders for the throne in episodes to come?" Joffrey, eagerly.

"About ten pounds of melted Doofraki gold if Lord VeryMuchs' spies got it right, yeah…" Robert guffawed.

Oh…Lady Addams listening with the others at table, gasped and sighed, trying to conceal her feelings as she tossed a turkey leg on to the waste plate held by Ser Arnold at her side, he still running in place in his armor. Not my Viciously? Oh, I always feared his insane father and I not telling him he wasn't a pure-blood Targaryen born of incest would come back to haunt him if he ever tried to rely on those legendary (probably) powers of heat-retardance.

My poor boy…All I have left of my Targaryen dalliance…Gone with the wind and ten pounds of melted Doofraki gold. And he never knew me as his true mummy who luved his white hair and purple eyes, however much they might freak one out.

"A toast!" Joffrey started to rise, relieved to seize the chance to escape… "To the hideous and revolting death of my enemy! Our enemy, Father…" to Robert's sudden baleful glare.

"Sorry…" Joffrey knelt again.

"Oh,no boy." Robert sneered. "That was a fine toast. Go ahead, finish…Drink up." He eyed Joffrey, then the helmet.

"You, shite-head!" he called to a passing servant bearing a flagon of wine.

"…Give Prince Joffrey some wine, the little puissant hero wants to do us proud with his sick little toast. No cup, he already has one fit for a prince like him."

The attendant nervously stepped over with flagon, moving to pour. Joffrey too nervous under his 'father''s baleful stare to protest.

Still, Lady Addams glanced over to where Jon Snowed and the other Stark boys and Fearing Greatjerk were all now standing about their uncle and Lord Gomez, offering Benjy greetings…

I still have my Jonny, dear boy. Who'll stay here safe under my watchful eye if I can just persuade Gomez it would be a good idea to give his old friend's bastard a wardship and home here rather than have him go home to Winterfalls. No dangers of losing him at least.

"So, since the Watch needs men and I need a secure employment…" Jon was noting. "And my father had consented to my joining the Watch to get his wife off his back about me…"

"Drink and arise off yer shitey lil' candy ass, Ser Joffrey, Prince of Storm's End…" Robert guffawed, thwacking the miserable Joffrey into the mire, the Airdale by his side grabbing the helmet before he could drop it and spill the contents.

"I said drink, damn yer miserable illegit sniveling little shite." The King glared.

"Ser Prince Joffrey, do as Pa bids…" Cersei insisted. "You can't wuss in front of your future bannermen."

"Here, my Lord…" the Airdale offered helmet, concealing his amusement.

"Cam on, ya little bastard…" Robert ordered.

"Joffrey…" Cersei glared. "Don't embarrass your father and lose your mother's affection, the only you have."

Well…At least this may impress Father, my new beloved, and will go a long way toward explaining my psychotic behavior, Joffrey reflected. And I get it's something Father would do. He tremulously bringing helmet to lips, drank… "Arrrrrrrrrhhhhh…"

"Ah, ha, ha, ha, Hah!" Robert bellowed, striking table.

God, what a wuss… Wednesday shook head grimly, then returned to worshipfully gazing on the object of her intense desire, Ser Lotus. Who was eagerly engaged in conversation…No doubt the manly affairs of manly, romantic knights and the Kingsguard…With Ser Jamie. Ser Lotus fondly holding his arm.

"There's a good boy, Joffrey. Mother won't withhold affection, for now." Cersei noted.

"Have I earnt your respect, Father?" Joffrey eagerly, glancing at Wednesday as well who ignored him and the vomit on his lips.

"Are you joking, you little twat?! My respect?! Hah! I'd've killed every man in the room before I'd've let meself be degraded like that! What a doofus, what a gutless shite of a son…" the King shook his head. "Gods, me only prayer is that a bloody civil war engulfs the realm after my death and you and your shite whore of a mother wind up on spikes so a real man can take the throne…"

"Bobbie…Political stability…" Cersei cautioned.

"Stability be damned…" he glared. "Let us have blood and cracked crowns, axes hewing through skulls…Swords hacking arms and legs…Mothers whimpering with their doomed babies at breast as cities are sacked…! It's good for the race. You've read Ser Teddy Roosevelt's books on the subject…"War, Mass Killing and the Necessary Rejuvenation of the Proper Manly Spirit", haven't ye?"

"I have, Father!" Joffrey, eagerly.

"Well, I haven't, you four-eyed little nerd. I just glanced at the book jacket." Robert frowned. "A manly King has more to do than read and follow state affairs for the good of the Kingdom all day long. He should either be on the field destroying his enemies or hunting down both vicious and defenseless animals, or at least whoring and drinking and feastin' on a grand scale. Have you learnt nothing from my example, you stupid dickless, worthless probable bastard?"

"Father…My one desire is to emulate your example in every twisted way I can, though not being you I can only hope to create a twisted, psychopathic version of your irresponsible reign."

"Eh, get outta of my sight…I've feastin' and whorin' to do." Robert sneered.

"Go and clean up and have a nap, Joffrey…Your father's so concerned about you." Cersei, fond beam to Robert.

"But I'm not…" Joffrey groaned, collapsing and vomiting, the strain of orgying and drinking a helmet of vomiting being just too much.

"Wuss…" Robert eyed him coldly.

"I'll take him to his chambers…" The Airdale lifted Joffrey like a sack of potatoes and started off…

"Wednesday…" Joffrey moaned as he was carried off…

"God, that jerk is a wuss…" Wednesday noted to the knight seated next to her, the duplicitous Ser Merwyn Tattleall who eagerly noted the indiscreet remark for future reference while making no reply.

"Well, quite a time…" Gomez beamed to Ser Benjy as they stood with the Stark boys, Fearing Greatjerk anxiously attempting to join the circle of worshipful lads but frozen out by a cold stare by Ser Benjy…And who do you think ye are, wuss captive traitor's son?

"Uncle…" Jon Snowed had come over. "Am I still to be allowed to join you on your way back to the Great Wall, so that I too may join the Black Night's Watchers and give my miserable bastard's existence some meaning?"

"Jon…" Robbed, concerned. "I was hoping you'd reconsider and stay with us to help me run Winterfalls and govern the North…Not officially of course, you being a miserable bastard son of my father but as a sort of half-assed, underpaid guy who does all my dirty work."

"I'd normally jump at the chance, bro…" Jon nodded. "But I feel it's my destiny to be at the Wall at this time. That the whole fate of the kingdom hangs on my being there."

"Hmmn…Well…" Robbed shrugged. "I guess a bastard's gotta have fantasies like that to give his life a modicum of meaning unless his whole family is slaughtered and he alone is left to defend its honor and inherit its lands and wealth. Good luck to you, Jon Snowed, my brother. You will tell no one about being my dad's worthless bastard when you get up there, right?" he eyed him.

Jon? My Jonny? Lady Addams blanching… To the grim bitterness of the Wall and the Black Night's Watch, for life? Oh…

Well, I guess I could visit him up there…Whip those elderly lard asses and their young mess of thieves, rapists, and degenerate or worthless sons of noble houses into some kind of shape…And see a few of my old boyfriends…She thought, sighing at Jon.

King Robert suddenly rising…Massively belching, which resulted in two knights across the table fainting. "I…Think…Is time for a break…" he vomited again across the table.

"Lets go!" Cersei, rising eagerly.

"Oh…Gods…" Robert, clutching stomach. "For once I'm so sick I don't even care…Gomez!" he turned to Lord Gomez. "Great party, keep it going, I'll be back in an hour or two."

"Or tomorrow morning! Or in several days!" Cersei, happily…Taking his arm. "Lean on me…When you're not strong…And I'll be your friend…I'll help you carry on…" she sang to Robert rapturously as they headed out, the Kingsguard, led by a somewhat perturbed Jamie…

I really think sometimes…He thought, watching Cersei happily hugging the groaning Robert as they walked, all the company rising and bowing to them. The great doors of the Hall closing behind them…

"Gomez…" Benjy had turned to him. "I understand you're to be Hand to the King and hold near absolute power in the realm soon."

"It seems so, Ben…Need anyone killed?" Gomez, attentively.

"The Black Night's Watchers have been getting disturbing reports from the Rangers and the Far North tour guides…Things are happening in the Far North, Gomez. Besides Winter is…"

"…Coming, right." Gomez nodded.

"Yes…And a host of other things, including maybe the White Zombie Walkers, their armies of the converted dead, the wildling marauders in force, backed by mammoths and giants, and Gods know what else. And while we can handle a lot of that on our manly, individually responsible own, even we staunch conservatives of the Watch have concluded we might need a little more assistance, say an army of 100,000 or more, heavy weapons, a work force of about 200,000 to make urgently needed repairs, and cash to cover all this. You'll be at Robert's side and running his government, see what you can do, will ye? Without getting the government involved in our affairs officially of course." Grim nod. "We don't want the government taking away our Black Night's Watch's Medicare you know."

"But isn't that a government program, Ben? As is your whole outfit?" Gomez noted.

"Just heed me words, Gomez. And do what ye can." Ser Benjy nodded, grimly. "Of course we'll still condemn you and the government in public for your liberal pinko socialist schemes but we'll all be truly grateful in private."

"Do what I can, Ben…Do what I can…Quite a morass to wade through down there, you know." Gomez sighed.

"Ladies and gentlemen…UHHHHHHH." Lurch had taken center floor with mistrels, he bearing fiddle. "We move on to the dance portion of today's festivities." He began to play…

"Oooh…'Electric Slide'…" Wednesday beamed, rising. "Ser Lotus?" she eagerly addressed him as he sat, eyeing the next worthy knightly candidate after the departed Jamie. "My likely betrothed? Not meaning to jump the formal negotiations' gun but… How's about you and me cutting a rug?" hopeful stare.

"Oh…I suppose so." Ser Lotus sighed, rising. "My lady and potential stepping stone to real power." He bowed.

"Wednesday's got a boyfriend…" Pugsly teased.

"Given your brother's heir to your family's vast fortune and lands, I'll gladly poison or skewer him after we're married in a meaningless ceremony to which I'll attach no importance other than an increase in my power and prestige whilst I pursue…Other pleasures more amenable to me…My lady." Ser Lotus hissed to Wednesday as she and he joined the majority of orgygoers to begin the dance… "Presuming the negotiations go well and our families approve our inconsequential union."

"I'll think about it, thanks." Wednesday nodded, beaming at his divine face, his gaze now fixed on another young knight's.

"Electric Slide...Bugga-bugga…" the minstrels chanted…


	11. Chapter 11

Game of Thrones Tales: Lannister Family Values

Summary: In an alternative universe, King Robert calls on a different old friend and brother to assist him. But whose decency, kindness, and sense of honor, while a bit different from Ned Stark's are equally strong. But are the family values of House Addams a match for the ruthless Lannisters?

Part XI…

Next morning…Swampflood…

As a weary horde of servants and attendants led by a sighing Lurch…Uhhhhhhh…Cleared away the debris and a few unconscious orgiers in the Great Hall, Prince Joffrey and his Airdale made their way to the King's and Queen's VIP guest suite in the main Tower.

Encountering a somewhat distressed Jaime on guard outside the room…

"Joff…"

"Uncle…I wish to see Mother."

As do I…Jamie did not say. "She's tending…"

I really do believe sometimes, he thought, she still…

"…to your royal father."

"I'm sure Mother will make time for me."

Jamie regarding him…Dear Gods…No.

Well, not unless every other male in the kingdom were dead…But then, watch out.

"Ser Jamie, as your prince…"

"Yeah, yeah…" Jamie sighed.

God, even this putz gets to push me around thanks to my foolishly signing on to the Kingsguard one drunken evening in Kings' Landing. Though, as it does get me away from Dad and his demands and keeps me near the one woman I truly love, however pervy that may sound, it's not worked out too bad as a haphazard choice of life-long career. And one I'm damned good at, even if I did kill the man I was pledged to defend, His Madness, the Mad King Eerys…

Well, anything to get Cersei outta there and perhaps a shot at a brief encounter…He opened door…

"Rock me gently…Rock me slowly…" Cersei's cooing voice from within…

"The Prince Joffrey…Your Grace!" Jamie called.

"Mom! Dad!" Joffrey stepped in. Whoa…He backed away from the sight of Cersei atop Robert in the bed, Robert dead to the world, snoring and occasionally belching.

"What?! Joffrey?!" she frowned. "Go and wait outside…Mommy and Daddy are resting."

"But Mother, I need your counsel." Joffrey, averting eyes.

"Fine, fine…Wait outside a mo…Jamie?" she frowned at Jamie who shrugged.

Hey, I be just the glorified footman guy here…

She emerged a few minutes later in full queenly gear to find Joffrey pacing, muttering his future plans for the extermination of the unfit of the Kingdom, unfit being a rather loosely defined, by him, category. Certainly his uncle Tyrion to fit that bill…

"Ah, Mom…" Joffrey eagerly…She putting finger to lips… Shhh.

"Dad is resting and I need to speak to the valiant Kingslayer of the Kingsguard, Uncle Jamie, for a mo…Go in the hall and wait." She insisted. Joffrey reluctantly leaving…You know, when at last I am King, nobody, but freakin' nobody…Except maybe my terrifying grandpa Tywin…And my unwilling to kowtow Uncle Tyrion…Will dare oppose my twisted and psychotic will, even though it might be insane to allow me to run rough shod over all laws and traditional protections from tyrannical rule.

"Jamie…" she came over after Joffrey, followed by the everpresent Airdale, had gone out. "I think we can slip in a rendezvous this morning while Robert's in a comatose state."

"Really?" he frowned at her. "What, you need to prove Robert's virility by having me get you pregnant again?"

Well, duh…Of course…She thought. But did not say, Jamie having a poor spirit in the matter of the need to support Bobby's image as the Kingdom's most potent male.

"Surely you want to spend a little time together with your dear sister…In some isolated tower room, hot and steamy…Our bodies dripping as we abandon all restraint…In our discussion of crucial political matters…" she noted.

"Oh?" he eyed her. "Well I think I've been used enough…" he frowned, folding arms with a clang of metal.

"Look, you wanna get it on or no?" she eyed him.

"Damn…You seductive temptress…" he sighed. "Fine…Where, when?"

"Give me ten minutes to sooth my lil' Joff's whining and meet me in the little side room at the top of the central Tower. And spread the word the King was a raging bear, drunkenly ravishing me all night long last night…And that the kingdom can probably expect another dear lil' Barftheron shortly." She beamed. "Bob will be so pleased…"

"Fine." Grim tone. Shaking head as she went out to join Joffrey…

I really need to get me a nice loving prostitute for a permanent secret mistress and end this sordid relationship…I should speak to Tyrion and see how his review of the local girls went. That might be nice, a sweet local girl from up here who'd be loving and loyal, for cash on the barrelhead.

…..

"So? For what reason did you disturb Mummy and Daddy's happy time?" Cersei eyed Joffrey in the Hall.

"Mother…" Joffrey looked about nervously. "Haven't you always warned me that there are spies everywhere...? Even when we're away from that sordid cesspit of a capital? Which one day when I come into my own…" he began…

"Yeah, yeah…" she waved a hand. "You'll kill everybody who opposes you and make the rest tremble in dread…Right. That I'll believe when I see it, especially if your uncle Tyrion or my dad Tywin are around."

"I shall be King in my own right!" Joffrey fumed. "Nobody's gonna tell me what to do or that I'm tired when I'm not!" Bursts into song…"Gonna be a mighty king, etc…"

"Yeah, yeah…" airy wave of hand. "Just wait till your grandpa hears that…Not to mention sees your awful Simba impression..." she giggled.

"Grandpa…?" gulp. "He really will be coming to the capital when I finally mount the throne?"

"Must you put it that way?" she frowned.

Right, the queen tramp is distressed by an ambiguous image to which one could attach a sexual meanng…He frowned.

But maybe Dad will be impressed to hear I'm voicing such…

"What did mother's precious want, darling?" she eyed him. "Though you know your daddy loves you too, even if it may seem obvious to anyone with eyes that you're not his son."

He gave distressed look.

"Just teasing, my widdle precious…Yes I am…" she tickled him…

"Why not let me handle that, mum?" the infamous Torturer of the Lannister, the Tickler, now official royal torturer, a decision the King had to admit was a rather sound one by Cersei, for once… If one is going to allow torture despite its established tendency to produce wildly inaccurate info when the tortured say whatever they believe the torturer wants them to say…Always standing by at Cersei' beck and call, eager to provide his unique services.

"Perhaps later…" she nodded. He reluctantly remelting into the shadows…

"Well?" she eyed the cringing Joffrey...Please, no more…Not again, oh please…Snivel…

"Uh…I…Mom, how does a psychotic like me destined to be king talk to girls?" he eyed her.

"Oh…Is this about that lovely Stark girl, ordained to be your bride so that we can control the North?" she beamed. "I like her so much, she reminds me of my own terrified, head-full-of-fairy-tale fantasies, younger self."

"No…Mom, I don't want her. I want to marry or at least ravish and then dispose of, Lady Addams…" he sighed.

Hmmn…She frowned. "Joffrey, I know you're a pervy little freak and Lady Addams has had a rep for decades as the hottest babe in the kingdoms even in comparison to me but the lady's a bit old for you, don't you think?"

"I mean Lady Wednesday, Mom! I told you she's the girl for me…At least till my Neroian, Henry VIII proclivities take me onto my next sexual obsession."

"Wednesday…?" she sighed. "Joff, we've already started to seal the deal with Sansa."

"But the Starks are our enemies…" he noted.

"Everyone is our enemy, Joff…" she pointed out. "If anything, Sansa's lack of parents probably makes the Starks the least enemy of our enemies."

"But Swampflood is even more strategic than Winterfalls…Which the Greatjerk clan would probably seize as our vassals for us anyway, any time we ask." Joffrey noted.

Hmmn…Point there…But Sansa is such a dear…I was so looking forward to having her as my daughter-in-law, horrible as the notion of condemning any poor girl to matrimony with my twisted son might be…Wednesday is such a tomboy, Arya Stark in training…

"She'd probably bust your balls…" she sighed. "Still…Swampflood is the key to the upper North and probably even Sansa would bust your wussy little balls after your grandpa got to the capital and took away your reign of terror."

"So long as it's Wednesday, my balls are hers to bust…" Joffrey, fondly.

Whoa…She blinked. My lil' psychotic, in true love…

"Well, we'll see what your father and his military and financial advisors say…" she noted. "Maybe the course of true love can run smooth…"

"Well, there is one thing…" he paused. "Wednesday seems infatuated with Ser Lotus and to hate my guts. The latter I can deal with, everyone hates my guts but the former…" sigh.

"Joff, Math? That's two things." she sighed. "Well, I'll have him poisoned. Oh, wait…The Markwells are essential allies to hold power in the kingdom should there be civil war after your dear father croaks. This could be a tough nut to crack, sweetheart, unlike your soft, wussy ones."

"Well, Father's sure to live many years yet, right? And there's no need to be concerned about civil war should I come to power sooner rather than later, right? Everyone will love me once I'm king…"

Uh…Well, at least the former I can go with…Unless of course someone reveals the true parentage of my children in which case my maternal instincts and lust for power might overcome my adoration of…I mean my commitment to my sacred marital vows despite despising and loathing dear, dear Bobbykins.

Nah, screw the brats…We can always adopt one of the "bastards" and put the real bastards out of the succession. Though not having one of Lannister blood on the throne would piss Dad off, she thought.

Well, not really a concern anyway…Bobby's sure to live many years…The kingdom's doing just fine despite the viscous struggle for power behind the scenes.

"I'll talk to your dad and the Addamses…" she sighed. "Maybe we can work something out."

"Yay! Say, I'd be happy to have the Stark girl poisoned, drowned, or cut into sections by the Airdale, if that would speed things along and you think it would impress Wednesday." He noted eagerly.

"Hold on that, for now…" she noted. "She might still be useful…Say, we could always marry her off to your uncle…"

"But Uncle Jaime…? Oooohhh…" he nodded, grinning. "Oh, Mom…That would be hilarious. She's twice Uncle Tyrion's size. Oh, the possibilities for humiliating them both would endless…Do it, Ma…Do it." He urged.

"Hafta to talk to your 'dad' first." She cautioned. "And remember, he…" Both Robert and Jamie… "…like your uncle Tyrion so no humiliation till I say it's ok. Ok?"

He pouted…

"You want this Addams girl or no…?" she eyed him.

"Oh, very well…" he sighed.

"Whoa, you are in love…My sweetest widdlekuns is all aflame with wuv…" she beamed.

"Till I decide it'd be more fun to see her aflame…" he nodded.

….


	12. Chapter 12

Game of Thrones Tales: Lannister Family Values

Summary: In an alternative universe, King Robert calls on a different old friend and brother to assist him. But whose decency, kindness, and sense of honor, while a bit different from Ned Stark's are equally strong. But are the family values of House Addams a match for the ruthless Lannisters?

Part XII…

Meanwhile…That morning in the boggy, flooded land surrounding the Swampflood keep Pugsly and Branded Stark had decided to show off to each other their respective pets, Branded's fearsome if lovable direwolf, Summer…And Pugsly's absolutely terrifying and more questionably lovable swamp thing, Hoodoo, a legendary seven foot hairy creature of rather apelike appearance capable of mimicking human speech to the extent of constantly repeating its name… "Hoodoo…Hoodoo…Hoodoo…" when addressed. Each boy praising the courage, tracking ability, and general legendary ferocity of their pet. Unfortunately the two legendary creatures had quickly established one reason why their respective species had become "legendary" by promptly fleeing in respective terror at each other's sight.

"So much for any huntin'. And the quicksand's kinda dry to see anyone or thing gettin' swallowed up. So, whatdaya wanna do now?" Pugsly sighed, as it became clear neither animal would be returning shortly.

Hmmn…Branded eyed the tall stone face of the main Tower…Rising to a soaring height above the walls of Swampflood…Nearly 400 feet in fact.

"Because it's there…" the words of famed mountain climber and knight the late Ser George Mallory springing immediately to his mind as excuse…Should any adult question why.

…

"Jamie…What's eating you? I mean instead of you, me as usual." Cersei frowning at the valiant Kingslayer as he lay beside her, still clad in armor, in the Tower hideaway storage room she'd managed to find about two-thirds of the way up on a side facing a rather forbidding stretch of bog and water, not likely to be occupied by prying eyes unless prying eyes sinking into quicksand.

Need to get in the mood, I'm not just some town pump you know…He'd noted when she'd suggested things might move along if he'd doff the metal cocoon.

"What do you think?" he groused. "You've been using me since day one...And I include our nine months in utero together… And now I'm not even your sex toy, I'm your sperm donor to make Robert Barftheron look good."

"Well…" she hesitated. "You are pledged to defend the King's honor, Jamy." Brushing his face with finger. "And what could be more honorable than making him look virile and manly in the sack dept.?" she noted, winsome smile. "And I still find you a very adequate sexual fall-back when I can't get even a modicum of pleasure from Robbie."

Frown…

…..

"Hey, boys!" Fester had stuck his bald head out of a Tower casement window at the two, Branded, followed by Pugsly, made their way up the Tower. Both wearing improvised masks from strips of cloth.

"Greetings, citizen…Don't be alarmed." Branded, formally… "I am Brandman and my sidekick below, Pugsly the Wonder Boy and I are duly knighted and deputized crime fighters off to foil the criminal schemes of the infamous supervillains, the Jester, the Puffin, and Wolflady as they seek to steal the crown jewels stored at the top of this Tower. Right, Wonder Boy?" he looked down at the puffing Wonder Boy.

"Ye…ah…Are we there yet? Hey…Unc…le…Fes…ter…" Pugsly gave desperate wave…

"Just three hundred and fifty feet to go, boys! Have a great time but if you should fall, aim for the pig muck…" Fester noted cheerily. Eyeing the seven feet they'd managed…

I'd say Pugsly's good for maybe another five feet, nothing to worry about with all the mire.

"Thanks, citizen." Branded saluted. Fester drawing back and closing window.

"I think your uncle doesn't think we'll make it…" Branded looked down to Pugsly.

"I don't think we think we'll make it…" Pugsly gasped.

"Well I did have Lurch leave some lemon cakes and milk on the roof." Branded noted. "Though I didn't tell him how we were getting there."

"Lemon cakes?" Pugsly, eagerly. "Say…Lets move to the far side over Forbidding Bog, where the swamp gets all bottomless. It's got more footholds, Father felt any attacking force deserved a little extra help for their foolhardy courage trying it from that end."

….

"Just want you to know Jonny, that I feel as if I stand for your late foster mother here…" Lady Addams addressed Jon Snowed in his guest room while carefully packing his gear for his trip to the Wall and a lifetime, with the occasional several months' leave, of grim, unrelenting service.

"Lady Stark hated my guts…" Jon sighed. "Though she did do her best not to shove it in my face all the time in front of others."

"Well, I'm sure she'd want me to make up for that…It now all being water under the bridge, like that which bore her and your father's corpses out to sea when Ser Walter gave them and his latest wife the cheapest honorable burial he could via old river barge he meant to break up for scrap anyway." hastily. "And as her old friend as well as your dear, dear father's, I'm happy to do so, always." She beamed.

"You've always been very kind to me, Lady Addams. Thank you." Jon gratefully noted, soulful brown eyes beaming to her equally soulful brown ones. "You've been so much more than a godsmother to me, the only one willing to stand for me in the lists of the Godsmother Tourney when Father brought me home to Winterfalls. I've always felt as though I had a mother watching over me whenever you'd come to visit or have me here or send me birthday and Sevenmas presents and have me for summer vacation and trips to the Free Cities in Essos and when you came to my Sevenmitzvah…"

"Well, I like to take an interest." She noted, carefully. "And I'll be up occasionally to have a gander at the Wall and see how you're getting on. How about this weekend?" eager tone…

"Thank you but we won't likely reach the Wall till Monday. You know Lord Tyrion is coming along to see it?"

"He's a pistol, that dear Imp." she beamed. "It should be a fun trip, you know, perhaps I'll come too."

"Well, my Lady…My uncle and soon-to-be superior Lord Benjy specifically said no women could come along when my sister Arya asked. Too much chance of inciting gang rape from the bunch he picked up in Kings' Landing, you know."

"Pshaw…I can handle that load of horse manure…" she snorted.

"Well, my Lady…" Jon, carefully… "I really want to get off on the right foot with the other guys…" sheepish look.

"And having a gods/foster mum of sorts bringing you there won't look too good?" she sighed, nodding. "I get it, Jonny. No problem." Downcast look. "I never liked it when my grandma wanted to bring me to a battlefield and would start fixing my hair, even as the enemy charged, though of course it never kept her from hacking a few dozen with her battle axe, Old Bludgeon. Really, I understand, sweetheart."

"But I'd love it if you could come up for Unashamed Visitors' Day…With Robbed and the girls." he noted. "It would fill the aching void left by knowing nothing of my true mother." Sadly soulful stare… "Before he died, my father told me he would tell me as soon as he got back from that wedding at Ser Walter's who my real mum was before I went up to the Wall forever. But…" sigh.

"Did he?" she eyed him…Slight frown.

Ned Stark and his "flexible" sense of honor…

Still, the boy was going for life and all, she eyed him. And would it really hurt to let him know the truth…? That his dear 'other foster' godsmother was none other than his true…

"Jon! Time to be off!" Ser Benjy's booming voice at the door. "My caravan of thieves, rapists, and murderers about to 'volunteer' for meritorious lifetime service facing hideous death and horrorable living conditions is getting antsy…! Ah, Lady Addams…" he greeted her. "Seeing the lad off? Good of you to take such interest in my beloved if bastard nephew."

"Of course, Ser Benjy. I was a good older friend to Lady Stark. And acquainted with Lord Stark, sort of." She shrugged. "Well, I'd best let you two be on yer way. Jon, you dress warm and keep your sword up, pointy end out."

"Arya told me that too, before I left her at Winterfalls." He grinned.

Oh…She gulped, pausing. "And perhaps when I see you at the Wall, we can talk. I might be able to help with some of those questions you had for your father. I knowing so many of his friends and relations and all…Perhaps I could ask around, see what I can uncover…" she gave him a quick peck on the cheek. "Take care of him, Benjy." Grim look…

"That's real good of you, my Lady." Benjy nodded. "Well, off to a life of endless exile in the bitter Far North ending only in our deaths, probably in the most gruesome ways imaginable…Come along, Jon, don't dawdle."

"My Lady…" Jon bowed, grabbing his pack and heading for the door.

Oh…Lady Addams sighing after him…Watching as he trudged alongside Benjy.

"Real nice lady to take such an interest in you all these years." Benjy noted.

"She's been like a mother to me…" Jon sighed as they made their way across the Great Hall…Servants still trying to clean it, Lurch pausing in midscrub of huge stain on the great table where Robert had sat to offer courteous bow, slight wave, and groan… "My….Lords…Uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh…"

"She was always close to Caitlyn and Ned." Benjy nodded. "I remember when Ned met her army just after the Battle of the Trident and spent two months with her, recovering from his wounds. She nursed him night and day and night in her own tent. A great lady…Not to mention quite the rep in her day…Warrior, Lover…Warrior and lover…She and her husband, old Lord Addams, had this very open marriage…" they went on out through the great doors of the Hall. "If I hadn't been pledged to the Watchers and committed to living a manly man's life in the company of men, l might well have taken a whack at her myself in me younger days after she'd been widowed, she was something…" he nodded fondly. "Even Ned always used to say…"

….

"Beware evildoers, wherever you are and whatever you're doing!" Branded's voice cried as he and Pugsly clambered ever higher up the sheer wall of the Tower.

Lemon…Cakes…Pugsly thought…Lem…on Cakes… He forced himself on and managed to pass Branded as Bran paused to look out over the vast swamplands below…

"Hey, Pugs?!" Bran called.

"Whichever of the Seven is appropriate, who the hell is that?!" Cersei cried out as Pugsly, smelling the faint odor of lemon from Jamie's hair rinse, peered in at the window of the storage room in which the two Lannister twins were "discussing the political situation".

And actually, given my reluctance to give it up out of my pissed mood, we actually were, Jamie thought.

Though I can see where the kid might get the wrong impression seeing us in bed together and Cersei half-naked…Though really, who in the Seven Kingdoms hasn't seen her half-or more-naked?

Though he would show just when I'd finally decided, ah what the hell a fuck's a fuck…

"Jamie? He's seen us!" Cersei, anxious. "Hey, you, kid?! Are you anybody?! I mean anybody not a miserable peasant no one would miss?"

"I…I'm Pugs…Pugsly Addams…" Pugsly was blinking furiously.

"Hey, Pugs?! Whatya see there?" Branded's voice.

Shhh…Jamie, finger to his lips, as he slipped out of bed and came to the window. Hey, there…Smile…

"A clever boy, a remarkable boy. You didn't by any chance, see anything untoward going on here, my fine rotund bully boy?" Cersei asked, smiling sweetly as she pulled coverlet up.

"Besides you and the Kingslayer, commander of the King's Guard in bed together and you half-naked, your Highness Cersei?" Pugsly asked.

"A remarkable boy, an intelligent boy…" she nodded. "Yes my fine tubby fellow…" she beamed.

"Nah, just you and your brother making out, your Highness…" Pugsly nodded. Jamie now offering him a hand which he took. "Thanks…"

"Quite a load there, kiddo." Jamie noted. "Kudos for hauling it all this way up." Grin.

"PUGS? What are you looking at up there?!" Branded's voice louder.

Hmmn-hmm…Cersei nodded to Pugsly…"I see…" she beamed. "Well, boys will be boys. Kill 'em…" she turned to Jamie. "Make sure you shove both to their deaths, the other kid calling him might have guessed something."

"You know it wouldn't kill you to say please, just once in a while." Jamie frowned, carefully shoving Pugsly in Branded's direction. Faint cries…

"Please…May I have more sex?" she asked, coyly, forefinger in mouth, winsome look.

I just know she'll call me Robert again, like she just did…He sighed.

…..


	13. Chapter 13

Game of Thrones Tales: Lannister Family Values

Summary: In an alternative universe, King Robert calls on a different old friend and brother to assist him. But whose decency, kindness, and sense of honor, while a bit different from Ned Stark's are equally strong. But are the family values of House Addams a match for the ruthless Lannisters?

Part XIII…

Kings' Landing…

Brothels R' Us HQ of the infamous Middlefinger…Where the famed intriguer, and financial wizard of the Kingdom…Though some of that luster for wizardry had faded with the mounting deficit…Was engaged in putting his staff through their "paces"…On the stage of the central music hall of his most famed brothel and theater.

"All right, ladies…Places…" Middlefinger in director's chair, waving girls to their places on stage… "From the top, lets rehearse…And remember, girls. Put your hearts into it!" he waved a fist. "Make your audience love you!" Offering his trademark winning smile… "Ok, action!"

Chorus line of prostitutes dazzling in gold lame outfits…Handsome Knight in center in silver armor, pulls off helmet as they pass by, to reveal his flowing locks…The girls mounting several tiers of decorated stairs behind him…

Orchestra of eunuchs and prostitutes strikes up…

Knight:

"A…Pretty…Girl…Is like a melody…"

Chorus:

"Ooohh…" in heavenly tones…

Knight, bowing to the passing lovelys, then taking pose, one armored arm outstretched:

"…That haunts you night and day. Just like the strain…Of a haunting refrain…

As you start upon a battle marathon…

She runs around your brain…"

Chorus:

"Ooooh…oooh…ooooh…oooh….oooh…"

Knight, sighing:

"You can't escape….She's in your memory.  
>By morning, night and noon…<br>She will leave you… and then, come back again  
>A pretty girl is just like a pretty tune…"<p>

Row of girls pass him again, Middlefinger keeping time, nodding…Holding finger…Tempo, girls, tempo…

Knight, shaking head, resumes:

"A pretty girl…Is like a melody…

That helps you bear the pain…

When you're dying in vain, let her be your refrain…

Our pretty girls are just …." Opens arms, falls to one knee…

"Like a…Pretty tune!"

"Yes! That's it!" Middlefinger beamed, then frowned. "But, it's not enough…We need more. More spectacle! Higher stairs!…More girls! Yes! Busby?!"

"Yes, sir…!" Eager voice of eager and gifted choreographer/apprentice whoremaster, Busby de la Berkley.

"You're on the right track, son. But we need more of everything…Give me more, Busby! Give our audience more! Lets really put on a show!" pumps fist in air.

"Yes, sir!" Busby, eagerly. "Girls, eunuchs…ruined Knights…Shifty pages cut loose by ruined Knights…Stage hands…Lets show Mr. Middlefinger the greatest spectacle in the history of Brothelry!"

"Yeah!" cries…

Knight, taking megaphone from stage hand, resumes as more and lovelier girls in more ornate costumes pass to climb quickly added to stairs:

"Should I reveal…Exactly how I feel?"

Chorus of prostitutes and eunuchs:

"I gotta thought you foolin'! I gotta thought you're not sincere!"

Knight:

"Should I reveal…Exactly how I feel?"

Chorus:

"I gotta thought you're foolin'…"

New line of girls in more ornate costumes, tap dancing across stage now…

"Yes! Yes! More, Busby! More!" Middlefinger raising and shaking fists…

Knight, beaming at the passing girls, wink to imagined audience:

"Beautiful girls…What a gorgeous creature…Beautiful girls…

Somebody call a septra…I'm in a whirl over these beautiful girls…My, oh my!"

Chorus line of girls back across stage, sweeping to form lines of tap dancers…

Knight stepping forward, helmet in hand, soulful look as lovelys pass by, demurely:

"Beautiful…Girls…For you I've got a passion…

Beautiful Girls…You're my queens of fashion…

I'm…In…A..Whirl…"

Rush of lovelys to him…

"Over…My…Beautiful…

Girls!" crash of orchestra's finale…

"Tremendous!" Middlefinger rose…"This will set a new trend in brothel entertainment!"

"Lord Belloq!" a young messenger hurried to him.

"Yeah? What's up, son, we're busy here!"

Boy hands scroll, Middlefinger unrolling, scanning…

Hmmn…So Lord Gomez comes to town shortly with his menagerie of bizarre family, odd if loyal friends, and various hangers-on…The Game begins anew. Sigh.

Politics…That endless division of my soul between my art and my politics resumes…Ah, well.

Time to play…Game…Of…Political…Fortune…

"Busby! I've got to attend to political matters." He turned to Busby. Then addressed the chorus line… "Girls, Knight, eunuchs, you're all swell! Keep working with Busby here, I know our Brothel Belloq Follies will be the biggest thing to hit Kings' Landing since King Robert!" he raised a fist in the air, shaking.

Cheers all around…

"We'll make you proud, boss!" Busby nodded.

"I know you will, Bus…You and all of you…" Middlefinger addressed the group of prostitutes, female and male, bawds, eunuchs…Stage hands, security Knights. "We in the entertainment business form a unique family…Giving something special to the world. Joy and delight to the masses. Never forget that, folks! Be proud of your art! And remember…!"

"Cash up front!" the prostitutes cried.

"That's my team!" he cried, pumping air.

…

Swampflood bedchamber cum emergency hospital room...

Where an anxious Lady Morticia was comforted by Lord Gomez as they waited at the bedsides of the unconscious Pugsly and Branded...Victims of an 'accidental' mutual fall.

A grim Lady Addams shaking head as she watched the maester treating the boys with her gimlet eye.

"Leaches, idiot. They'll clean the wounds." she noted. The maester frowning. "Leaches? Far too radical a therapy...A good poultice of oatmeal and mercury, that's the thing to bring them round." he insisted.

"Quack!" Lady Addams glared. "Mercury kills fish, it'll kill young boys."

"Mama, please..." Morticia sighed.

"Mother, I know you mean well..." Gomez, soothingly. "But Maester Mengele is the best practioner in the Seven Kingdoms"

"I'll bet...But of what?" Lady Addams glared at Mengele.

"Just a little of this dye in their eyeballs..." Mengele noted. "It might relieve the pressure on their spines. Or at least provide useful knowledge for medical maestrally."

"What? Quack, quack...Quack..." Lady Addams mocked.

"Mama..." Morticia, weeping now.

"Oh..." Lady Addams came over. "Morty...Love...I'm sorry. But this idiot don't know his eyeballs from his mercury. Get rid of him and let Fester and me take care of the boys. We've pulled many a dying knight with his guts torn out across a devastated battlefield to live to die in the next murderous fight...Or a cart accident on the way to a rest home."

Fester standing at the foot of the boys' beds, nodding approval...

"Please...I have to know that my boy and poor Branded here..." Morticia eyed Branded. "Are getting the most modern and best care gold can buy."

"I think if they don't wake up soon we could try tearing out their spines and substituting dogs' spines." Mengele suggested eagerly.

"Interesting idea." Lord Gomez nodded. "However a bit more invasive than I think my wife would like..."

"Heroic measures, Lord Addams, must sometimes be employed..." Mengele, sternly.

"Gomez! I must talk with you!" Lady Addams insisted. "Outside...Now! Morty?" she turned to Morticia. "Keep this quack and his dog spines away from your boy. And you..." she eyed Mengele... "I'll have you up before the Maesters' tribuneral of Healing Ethics if you so much as reset a bone before I get back. Gomez!"

Gomez followed her to the door, they opening as Robbed Stark entered.

"Hello. How is Branded...And Pugsly?"

"No change, I'm afraid." Gomez, shaking head. "But on the positive side, they're making medical history by surviving even if utterly crippled for lives of unrelenting misery. Go right in, Robbed."

He and Lady Addams exiting, she leading him to her own spartan bedroom across the hall...He noting the famed battleaxe of her mother, Lady Hamilton on the wall above her bed, in easy grabbing distance. "Good ole 'Ole Bludgeon' still keeps you company, I see." She hastily closing door...

"Gomez..." Narrow look. "You've got to get that quack away from the boys. If he is merely a quack." she frowned.

"Mama?"

"Someone pushed those boys from the Tower, Gomez. Even if I can easily accept Pugsly's fall, there's no way young Branded would have fallen. He climbs like a goat."

"Well, perhaps, Mama..." Gomez sighed. "But 190 lbs of my lovable son crashing into even such an experienced climber as young Branded..."

"Some's wrong here, Gomez. And we need to find out what, before you get to Kings Landing."

"Mama..." Gomez sighed. "I can't possibly go to Kings Landing with Pugsly like this..."

"Hah!" she beamed grimly. "See, there's your motivation..." eager smile.

"Someone not wanting me to bring justice and order to King Robert's realm is trying to stop me from going to the capital? By harming my own son and heir?" Gomez, angrily.

"That would be my conclusion, boy. But why trust in an old woman's foolish mutterings...Even if I've seen this often enough, though not with children as the victims of the power play."

"Power play, eh? Mama, you're convinced this was no accident?"

"I'm no Ned Stark, Gomez." she frowned. "I don't believe in trustworthy politicians or the loyalty pledges of Ser Walter Frey. You said yourself there was something odd about the angle of their trajectory in falling..."

"Well...It did suggest a large, six-foot three male had shoved Pugsly with a force of say...A large, six-foot three male...Into Branded."

He glared darkly... "If violence has been offered to my son...And my cousin while a guest in my home...My Corsican blood demands vendetta!" He calmed a bit... "Though the political situation does require I keep a degree of cool..." he sighed, sweat rolling. A box opened on the bedside table and a hand offered a cloth. "Thank you, Thing. No change yet, I'm afraid." he sighed.

The hand made an "Ok" symbol and went back in its box...

"Gomez, you must proceed to Kings' Landing and find out what's what and who we have to kill there." Lady Addams noted grimly.

"Mama...We're supposed to be reconcilers."

"Reconcile their roasting entrails..." she fumed.

"Mama..."

"Gomez...You must proceed and find out what's rotten in Kings' Landing. Let Morty, Fester, and I work on the problem here, we'll find out the truth if we have to torture every innocent soul from the top of the North beyond the Wall to the last grain of Dornish sand in the South."

...

Plateau above Kings' Landing as the royal train halts to collect stragglers and bury a few servants and camp followers not able to handle life in the royal lane during the slogging death march in 100 degree heat…The panorama of the capital spread out below before them…

"Well there she is, Gomez…The capital. The arm pit of the Seven Kingdoms. Not worth the effort to piss in a bucket let alone the 250000 dead in that bloody civil war." Robert sighed, looking out over his capital. "Shall we go down and join the rest in the corrupt stewpots and violent cesspools of my city?"

"Sounds good, Bob." Gomez nodded.

(Theme from Dallas plays…)

"Lets review the cast of characters…For your edification, my Lord Hand…" Robert began.

"You know me…The King, the ruined fart wreck of a once great warrior prince…Robert Barftheron."

(starring Robert Barftheron…As the King.)

"My worthless, immoral, scheming but beautiful and politically essential wife, Cersei…"

"Bobbie…" Cersie, blushing…Shy beam… "You haven't called me beautiful since the night you came home so pisser drunk you thought you were in Middlefinger's brothel and I was one of your favorite whores…Unless, maybe, that was a fantasy sex game?" she asked, hopefully.

(Cersei Lannister…As the Queen.)

"You know yourself, the new, inexperienced, naively honorable, but quirkily brilliant and noble as they come, Lord Hand…)

(Gomez Addams…As the new honorable and noble if eccentric, Lord Hand.)

"My untrustworthy yet trusted with my life as he was with the life of the last king, Jamie Lannister, Captain of my Kingsguard…And probably involved with my scheming wife in both politics…And the bedroom."

(Jamie Lannister…As the conflicted brother-in-law…)

"My trusted aide and second-in-command of my Kingsguard… Ser Barter de Honor." Robert nodded to Ser Barter…

(Barton de Honor…As the last somewhat honorable courtier.)

"Your kid and the Stark girls you know…"

(Wednesday Addams…As the spunky kid naively loved by the future psycho King; Sansa Stark as the foolishly naïve heiress naively in love with said psycho heir, growing up fast in the sordid world outside her secure home; Arya Stark as the other spunky, rather beyond tomboy kid seeking revenge for her family.)

"And in that nest of vipers we call Kings' Landing…Master of Intel, Lord Verymuchs…"

(Lord Verymuchs…As the creepy SpyMaster of Shadows. Verymuchs giving shrewdly mysterious nod to us by the window of his Red Keep tower office.)

"…That scheming runt if capable minister of finance and coin, Lord Petyr Belloq, the infamous Middlefinger…"

(Petyr Belloq…As Middlefinger… Middlefinger in his office giving us dark smile.)

"And of course there's my awful cunt of a son…Joffrey…"

(Joffrey Barftheron…As the viciously psycho Heir.)

"My other kids, whatever…Don't really know what's to be said about them."

(Tommen Barftheron…Mycella Barfteron…As the surprisingly lovable royal kids.)

"Ser Cyst de la Boil…Joffrey's bodyguard with a troubled past and brother issues but buried within, a man's heart…Not that I give a damn…" Robert, shrugging.

(Cyst de la Boil…As the Airdale.)

"Ser Raging Pus de la Boil…Cyst's crazy, gigantic brother, the Heavy…"

(Raging Pus de la Boil…as the Heavy)

"Handy, Gently, Oooh, you sweet thing, Randy, Cersei, Share, Robert Jr, Robbie, Cersy, Horsefaced, Brienne, Bob, ComeNow, Pumpit, Nothing to worry about, Horny, Cersely, Cerseila, Buffy…Summer. My bastards in the city, current count."

"Don't forget Tywin, and Jamie…" Cersei looked over.

"Oh, right…And Tywin and Jamie…Summer…My other bastards." Chuckle… "Forgotten about them, ha!"

(Handy, Gently, Oooh, you sweet thing, Randy, Cersei, Share, Robert Jr, Robbie, Cersy, Horsefaced, Brienne, Bob, ComeNow, Pumpit, Nothing to worry about, Horny, Cersely, Cerseila, Buffy, Tywin, Jamie…As the mostly doomed Summers.)

"…Word can't have reached ole man Lannister yet in Casterly Rock, he'd put on the pruned face of a man undergoing extreme constipation for life!" Robert guffawed. "And what do you think about one of me bastards bearing your name, Kingslicer." He turned to Jamie.

"Kingslayer, your Grace." Jamie, grimly.

"Slicer, slayer…Hardly matters, eh?" Robert sneered. "You still betrayed yer trust and your most solemn oath. Heck if the rumors are as true as I expect they are about you and my wife, I could forgive you that, easy…With thanks for allowing me the chance to throw that worthless son of mine out of the will. But betrayin' your anointed King?"

"Everyone, including you and that so-called most honorable, if rather dimwitted, of men, the late Ned Stark, betrayed King Eerys." Jamie protested. "There was a perfectly valid precedent for stabbing him in the back, he came to the throne by killing his brother. Besides…If I were to tell you the real reason I killed Eerys…"

"Yeah, yeah…Who gives a flying F now that that nut's food for worms and I been setting my ass on the Iron Toilet for seventeen years. Boring…" Robert shrugged.

"But…If you and the world but knew…" Jamie began.

"There he goes again…" Robert groused to Cersei who shook head. "I know, I know…I tell him no one gives a shite…Say, can we get on down to the city? I got fleas and the runs…"

"No, I've wasted too much daylight in expostulation. We'll camp here and enter tomorrow in the proper procession to honor my new Hand."

"Oh, not another night out in this…Hmmn?" Cersei perked a bit at the word "procession". "A parade? A big, financially crippling and unnecessarily wasteful one?" she beamed at Robert.

"Your Grace…" Gomez began. "Hardly neces…"

"It'll be the biggest thing to hit this place since my army did!" Robert nodded to Cersei.

Oh…She clapped.

"And then of course we'll have to have a tourney, a mammoth one!" Robert raised a fist in the air. "The finest knights from all over, pigs and oxen on the spits, booze gushing from the fountains. It'll be great for our economy…We'll call it Robert Barftheron's Stimulus Tourney for the New Hand!"

"Oh, Robbie, that's brilliant!" Cersei nodded.

"But Bob…" Gomez protested. "Won't that be ruinously expensive on top of all your outlays on orgies, your bastards, redecorating the Keep and your various hunting lodges and the Queen's stolen castles, the army, the navy, your enormous tax giveaways to the 1% and good ole boy corporate buddies to keep them on your side, and your vital entitlement programs like Peasantry Security?"

"Eh…" Robert shrugged. "Finance Minister Middlefinger will deal with the coins…He can always raise another loan from my fabulously wealthy in-law. The only thing this cunt of a wife of mine is good for…Besides providing me with something vaguely resembling an heir…If the father were Jamie Lannister."


	14. Chapter 14

Game of Thrones Tales: Lannister Family Values

Summary: In an alternative universe, King Robert calls on a different old friend and brother to assist him. But whose decency, kindness, and sense of honor, while a bit different from Ned Stark's are equally strong. But are the family values of House Addams a match for the ruthless Lannisters?

Part XIV…

The plateau above Kings' Landing…

(Dallas theme continuing as King Robert resumes his review of characters for his new Hand…

Cut to various shots about Kings' Landing, that prosperous cesspit of a capital…

The Royal Amphitheatre…Currently hosting the hit play "Game of Thrones" about a hilarious comic struggle for power around a brutal warrior king excellent in battle but somewhat inept in governance, his beautiful but utterly immoral yet not all that bright as she believes herself Queen, the brilliant but socially graceless mighty lord running things behind the scenes, a bunch of noble but foolishly naïve challengers all doomed to horrible deaths, a mysteriously creepy Spymaster eunich plotting to hand the kingdom over to a foreign power, and the clever, dashing hero, a poor boy from a small house who beats the odds to make good, rescue the kingdom from chaos, and win his widowed girl with his patient love, charming wit, and a few necessary murders…A musical, produced by the mysterious if famed producer "Max Bialystock" (some in the know claiming it to be a pseudonym for the Minister of Finance) , directed by Busby de la Berkeley, if you're in Kings' Landing don't miss it before the censors catch on and close it down.

The crowds of Fleas Butt, affordable housing district for the poor and working classes…Where life can be hard but is always colorful and vibrant…

The Red Keep, center of power and hopeful schemes, where dreams may be fulfilled or end on the chopping block or in the dungeons…Home of the King when he can't escape to more congenial surroundings and the famed Iron Throne, uncomfortable seat of Kings and symbol of unity and power in the United Kingdoms of Westeros.

The Royal Bowl…Where the Fighting Knights are set to meet the Rampaging Barbarians next Sevenday at 4pm in a closely matched game to determine the Kingdom's champions in the manly and occasionally deadly sport of kings, princes, nobles, and you little people, field hockey…

The Stuffed Belly…Famed restaurant/inn where the elite meet to drink, dine, scheme, hookup…

"And the lesser characters, my Lord Hand…Whom you should be familiar with if you're to be the real power in the land whilst I just fuck around having a grand time." Robert continued.

"Danerys Targaryn…Female descendant of Eerys, the late and Maddest of the Mad Kings…Currently residing in Essos, across the Sailable Sea. Potentially heir to my throne now that her idiot and pretty mad brother Viciously has met with a case of suicide by stupidity. Smokin'…Literally, given her Targaryn inbred resistance to fire, but not all that overwhelming in the cranium. I'd do her in a hot minute but sadly I'll probably have to croak her for the greater good one day."

(Danerys Targaryn as Danys, Khalessi of the Doofraki, soon-to-be dictator of several formerly Free Cities, and would be for no truly legit reason but her family's brutal conquest centuries ago, Queen of Westeros.)

"Her top aide and my own stooge/spy Ser Jonah Job, woebegone ruined knight and long-time sufferer of Fate, exiled in disgrace for selling people without a license after his tramp wife went through his fortune. A major depressive but useful in that he's letting me know if that Targaryn tramp should ever get her hands on some real military power and a dragon or two."

(Ser Jonah Job…As the depressed Knight/aide/reluctant spy/traitor/convert to loyal Queen fan…)

"Khan Khal Noonen Singh…The current Doofraki leader currently dying of an infected wound. Bred to be a superior human being by the breeding principles of Doofraki culture, now he would've been a challenge in the field at last after all these years of little shites not worth my trouble but the fool went and got himself in some clan knife fight without antibiotics handy. Now Khan, I'm laughing at the superior type…" snort.

(Khan Khal…As the shortly to be handsome if worm-eaten corpse…)

"My own brother, Stanislaw the Even More Brutal but Somewhat Responsible…Though he's currently holding our ancestral family Keep at Storming Out…And bidding his time to make a bid for the throne, using some bizarre new faith revolving around the hideously distorted teachings of that nice Jewish rabbi kid who used to preach in the Free City of Judea…"

(Stanislaw Barftheron… As the grimly ambitious, would-be heir and sponsor of a new unifying Faith incidentally reworked to his benefit…Shot of grim towering figure eyeing the sea from his ancestral battlements…)

"Melisande the Red…The weirdly gifted former slave/hot babe fanatic priestess of the said new Faith, currently busy frying those she considers heretics despite the enjourning of her Faith's leader to love everyone as a brother or sister in his original teachings. Now I would do her in a minute if I didn't fear her ESP abilities so much... Though our Section 51 at the Citadel has been working to counter her abilities."

(Melisande the Red…As the insanely fanatic priestess and ESP-powered witch)

"My other brother…Rently the Likable if Poofy…Who generally bows to my will but wouldn't mind making a bid for power if he thought he'd have the people's love backing him. He's at the capital, on my Council. Now, he might constitute a little problem for that girl of yours if she remains determined to have Ser Lotus the Flowery as they have a thing going together in secret."

(Rently Barftheron…As the well-meaning would be heir.)

"And…"

"Robert…?! Where's Joff?" Cersei interrupted, having had a moment to look about the royal wagon train as camp was set up. "I thought he might be trying to weasel his way into Lady Wednesday's heart or pathetically clinging to you, trying to find some way to win your approval, but…"

Ok, I was sleeping off a week of sex and booze, orgy, trying to look queenly dignified at orgy and with local notables, sex and booze, agonizing wagon ride, more trying to look queenly with local notables and smile for the nobodies, sex…And you know I do all the work there, Bobbie…And booze…She thought, sighing.

Oh, I guess I am not the best of wives and mothers, but…

"Who?" he stared. Woman, you're interrupting me reeling off the minor credits…Glare as Lord Gomez politely begged leave to see to his daughter, Cersei giving queenly nod, Robert intensifying glare at loss of his friend's company.

"This best be worth me royal time of day, woman…" he frowned. "Who the hell are you asking about?"

"Our son?…The heir?…Short, blonde, cute, desperate to please you, psychotically so. Real emotional and mental basket case?…Our budding Caligula, with a penchant for gutting cats?" she reminded him.

"Oh, right…The little snot-nosed shite…I think we must've left Swampflood without him three days ago." Robert shrugged.

"Robbie?!"

"Eh…Your brother Tyrion's still there…If he hasn't headed North yet. Just tell the little snotbag when and if he finally makes it here that I was testin' his fitness for the throne with a minor quest." Robert shrugged, chuckling. "Gods know my money's on him failing that test…Hey, anyone here want to be King after I croak?" he called out to the entourage in general, parting the curtains of his and Cersei's royal tent. "A vacancy may be openin'…No wait, I still have that other little whathisname…" he noted. "The tolerable one…Tom or whatever? Yeah…" nod. "He's a bearable kid, this may work out…" he reflected as Cersei blinked in horror…

Oh, my poor psychotic Joff…My son… Oh, how could I?!

This bitch queen and incest thing is all very well for fun and to assert my modicum of independence from the controlling males in my life but when it interferes with my parenting skills…

"Oh, I'm a terrible mother…" she sighed, weeping suddenly.

Eh? Robert staring…

Uh…Now I was prepped and ready for a bitter castigation from the witch from Hell…But this comes outta left field.

"Uh…Cerse? Pull yer frigging self together and be a Queen for Godssakes. The little vomitous ball of pus'll be fine, his Airdale Knight's with him."

"Oh…Robbie…" she sobbed, hugging his embarrassed, stunned form…Well, as much as she could given that girth. "You can be so supportive and sweet when the chips are down."

"Eh…" he frowned…But did not shove her off into the mire outside as was his wont.

Cut to shot of Lord Verymuchs, anxiously rubbing thumbs and frowning in his Tower office as the information on the Barftherons' effervescent reconciliation reached him almost instantaneously…

Hey, a proper eunich minister cum Spymaster can pull this sort of thing off or he's not worthy not to have balls, his look to us saying…

Not good news…He thinks. For should the Barftherons reconcile, even just to the extent of barely tolerating each other…Queen Cersei is sure not to panic and have Robert killed to protect Joffrey's climb to the throne…Good mum failing to win out over bizarrely loving much abused wife. And if the little psycho does not come to the throne and trigger a major civil war through his insane and blundering policies towards potential allies, friends, and those who wouldn't bother to waste the time of killing him except that the little basket case threatens their comfortable lives, the kingdom could remain somewhat stable and prosperous rather than increasingly ripe for conquest by someone with no other claims than her superior airpower and that her ancestor brutally invaded and killed his way across the continent centuries ago, bludgeoning the kingdoms into surrender.

Well, just have to count on their mutual antipathy and the problems that these arranged marriages foster, for now…

Hmmn…Maybe I should go see Middlefinger and see if my nemesis, the little fuck, has heard and has any clever ideas. He's a sneaky little shit…And I doubt the long-term stability of the kingdom works for him either.

Besides I so enjoy his sparkling conversation and wit…Only our little imp Tyrion can match him in that department….

….

Meanwhile…In the North, at Swampflood…

An anxious Robbed Stark sat by his comatose brother Branded's sickbed, holding his hand as Morticia sat by Pugsly's, occasionally speaking a word of comfort to the boy suddenly forced to become head of his noble House by tragedy.

Their sad vigil marked only by the screams of the duplicitous Maester Mengele issuing from the dungeons far below…The Maester having immediately confessed on being confronted with proof from the literature, delivered by raven dispatched by the suspicious Lady Addams, that the use of large quantities of mercury in poultices had been abandoned as potentially dangerous. Whereas ethylmercury in minute quantities was removed from the body without harm and its preservative benefits in medications and lack of side effects clearly warranted its use…

Not to mention his claims regarding his experiments in interspecies spinal transplant being totally unfounded…

…Causing him to admit to having taken funding from mysterious sources who'd demanded he'd see that the boys either did not recover or made that once in a thousand years' medical breakthrough…

Suggesting the said mysterious source was capable of putting the greater good ahead of immediate personal gain, Lady Addams had noted as the Maester, pleading for mercy as a valuable contributor to Natural Philosophy and one only following orders, was dragged away to unspeakable torture. Fester eagerly preparing to offer his assist...

Though…As Lady Morticia had urgently noted to Lurch and the bannermen hauling the prisoner to his grisly fate, it might be well to make the torture speakable, at least for now.

"Who could have sent him?" Robbed shook head. "Everyone likes us…My father was an honorable and respected man, as is Lord Gomez. Who would want to harm us, Lady Maud?" he turned to Lady Addams.

"Laddie…" Lady Addams sighed as Fester snorted…Short life and a merry one, kid…

Hideous scream causing even Robbed's great direwolf GreyWind to cower…

"It's the honorable and respected who are the ones first to die in times like these." Lady Maud noted. "In fact, in general…If you read history rather than fictional fantasy…Nice guys usually finish last. Though…" she reflected. "Not always…"

"And I won't allow it this time." Robbed rose, proudly. "Our cousin, your sister, my Lady Morticia, Lady Ophelia, believes that her husband and my father were poisoned by the Lannisters or on their orders. I'm really to believe it…And the Lannisters would have the money and connections to corrupt even the Maesters… Though I could accept Mom's death as a bizarre torch-out accident since poor Sir Walter lost his own dear latest wife in the same said tragic accident."

Lady Addams, rolling eyes at Fester who shrugged.

This one's headed for a better world…Soon…

"Robbed?" Morticia shook her head. "Aching as is my heart as I see my poor fully packed Pugsly lying there and your dear brother beside him…And fierce as is the fire of vengeance in said heart, I think we can't start a civil war that will kill millions on such weak supposition. The nobles and the people would howl for Lannister (or anyone's) blood with little more than a curse word from us and nothing but social media hearsay, but we must try to seek the truth."

"Yes…" Robbed sighed, agreeing. "That would be what my father would do…And I must follow his noble and honorably naïve path even if it leads to the destruction of our House, the devastation of the Kingdom, my own hideous death and the deaths of millions in war, and the ruins of a great civilization falling into the hands of a likely insane and tyrannical foreign conqueror."

"Leave that to me, Morticia." Fester nodded eagerly. "I'll get the Truth or something plausible out of that Maester." He rose.

"I don't know, Uncle Fester…Given the intensity of the screams I'd say the torturers were at Level 4 and he may have already instantly confessed everything he knew." Morticia noted, shaking head.

"Well, either he knows more or he doesn't…Fifty-fifty chance…Lemme at him." Fester, happily.

"Nothing dishonorable, my Lord Fester." Robbed urged.

Fester rolling eyes to sister Maud…For cryin' out loud, this is the Medieval era not the Romantic…

"Lord Stark is right, Uncle Fester." Morticia nodded. "Just the usual disembowelment and burning of his entrails before his eyes, nothing weird."

Sigh...

Never get any fun these days…Even with a legit candidate for torture…How's an artist like me to work in his medium with all these modern restraints on creativity...?

"Fine…We'll keep it simple." Fester sighed, a pat to the unconscious Pugsly, then heading out.

"Given the willingness to consider a greater good on the part of his paymaster, I'd suspect Lord Verymuchs…" Lady Maud noted grimly. "He's always been the sort to prattle about that sort of thing…Though old Tywin Lannister does the same, I'll admit, at least he's more honest about doing it for his House."

"Mama? Lord Verymuchs is the King's Minister of the Interior and Master of Shadows…You realize such a charge could have serious political consequences? As would a charge against Lord Lannister." Morticia noted.

"Well, duh, girl…" Lady Maud shook head. "I warned Ned Stark he was putting his head in a noose when he stopped by with Cat on their way to that cheap and vicious sob Walter Frey's latest wedding. Frey's been maneuvering for real power in the North for years and this was the likely outcome. But don't listen to me, I'm just an old fool ex-warrior queen."

"Mama, you know Gomez and I value your counsel. Gomez put you in charge of Swampflood's defense." Morticia noted. "And if it weren't for Pugsly's accident or incident, I'd be with him in Kings' Landing now."

"Well, you should go…There's little you can do here for Pugsly now." Lady Addams pointed out. "And Gomez needs your counsel in that cesspit of a capital. Plus Wednesday and the Stark girls have no one to turn to who might understand their confusion as innocent young women confronted by bottomless evil and violence. God knows, Queen Cersei's the last person…"

"Het-hum…My Ladies Addams…My Lord Stark…" Tyrion Lannister peered into the chamber through the open door, Joffrey squirming a bit in his vise grip, the Airdale following with look of amusement.

"We've come to pay our respects…Very sorry to hear about the boys. Aren't we, Prince Joffrey?" Tyrion gave Joffrey a grim look…Joffrey quailing at the remembrance of the ten-minute slap session he'd been treated to just before when he'd sneered at the thought of comforting wailing women while crying for his mother.

"Very sorry, my Ladies." Joffrey, hastily…Shoved forward by Tyrion, he went to kiss the hand of a grim-looking Lady Maud and then that of a somewhat less frosty Lady Morticia. Robbed Stark eyeing him, then Tyrion coldly.

I could be driven from my father's honorable course in dealing with these two Lannister scum…

"Any improvement?" Tyrion, with genuine concern as Joffrey backed away, an attempt at sneer quickly crushed by Tyrion's glance.

"None." Morticia shook head.

"I'm very sorry to hear. If there's anything I can do…Perhaps contact my father regards medical advice? Please don't fail to ask it before we leave. I'm off to overtake Jon Snowed this morning."

Hmmn…Lady Addams glared.

Following after my beloved…Gods…Son, eh? 'To see the Great Wall', sure…

"And of course Prince Joffrey is making his first solo tour of the North before going home…" Tyrion diplomatically covering Joffrey's abandonment by his indifferent parents.

Knowing what that's like, he can tell you…

Though even he can't find much sympathy for this little psycho in training after that puppy and peasant girl incident last year.

"Really? I'm on solo tour?" Joffrey eager to have some explanation for his abandonment…

Yeah, that's plausible…Yeah…

So Dad's entrusted me with winning the hearts and minds of the treacherous Northerners? Whoa.

Well, Joffrey Barftheron is up to the challenge…A few burned villages, a few raped girls, noble and peasant, by my violent and cowardly hench-hangerson, a bit of torture and murder, some extortionate tax levies…And maybe a statue or two of me, built at huge expense by forced labor, and my popularity will be secured, he beamed.


	15. Chapter 15

Game of Thrones Tales: Lannister Family Values

Summary: In an alternative universe, King Robert calls on a different old friend and brother to assist him. But whose decency, kindness, and sense of honor, while a bit different from Ned Stark's are equally strong. But are the family values of House Addams a match for the ruthless Lannisters?

Part XV…

Evening…The royal camp, about ten Westerosian miles from the entrance gate of the capital…

"I can't believe you like that dork…"Arya Stark, short, brunette, boyish in her plain shirt, deerskin jacket, and leather buskins frowning as she sat before a bonfire with her tall, blonde, girly girlish sister Sansa in her blue traveling dress and ladies' equestrian jacket and hat, the only proper outfit for a traveling lady of noble house.

"Prince Joffrey is not a 'dork'…He's heir to the throne and my betrothed. Noble, valiant, and charming to his well-manicured fingertips…And cute as the dickens…" Sansa, dreamily.

"If you call 'valiant' the fact he likes to torture cats but he's pure chicken-shit around his dad." Arya rolled eyes.

"It's a phase boys go through…" Sansa insisted. "He's always been very nice to me."

"Cause his mom and dad made him…You're prime marital fodder, northern real estate wise, Sans." Arya shook head. "The jerk's a pervert if you ask me…More Targaryn than Barftheron…If he were older I'd put my money on his mom having slept with the Mad King rather than her brother…"

"Arya!" Sansa hissed. "That's a foul rumor…"

"Bet a blood test by that method Maester Luwyn back at Winterfalls showed us could tell what blood a man or animal carries would say otherwise…" Arya, archly.

Wednesday, in somewhat fancy black dress…Her mother a bit startled to have found her daughter suddenly anxious to be dressed as a proper Addams lady having hurriedly pulled it together before Lord Gomez's and the royal crew's departure to Winterfalls, then the capital…Approached the Stark girls as they sat by a fire.

"Gods…" Sansa hissed… "It's that creepy Wednesday Addams…Lets get away from here before she comes. Now she's one I'd believe was strangely parented except that whole Addams clan is weird."

"Eh, Wed's ok. Though she's been actin' goofy on this trip…All girly, like you…" Arya shrugged. "But if you wanna go off in the dark, with animals, drunken knights experienced in various GOP- approved versions of rape, and King Robert around…By all means." she waved a hand.

Uh…

"I'll stay. It wouldn't be polite to go off if you're not going." Sansa noted.

"Whatever…" Arya shrugged.

"Hey." Wednesday waved, coming over.

"Yo." Arya nodded, friendly wave.

"Lady Addams…" Sansa, polite nod. "Do come and join us."

"Don't mind if I do…Lady Stark." Wednesday, quickly aping Sansa's style.

After all…Mom's always saying Sansa Stark's sort who gets married to a princely heir type…Even if she's always seemed achingly boring till now.

She took seat by the fire on the driest spot she could find.

"So…Mourning your dead parents?" she asked, seeking a proper yet relevant conversational topic as a lady should…

Sansa frowning but silent…Arya, shaking head.

"Way past that…I'm workin' out how I'll kill Ser Walter after I learn a few sword tricks with the piece my brother gave me." She proudly pulled out the sword her half-brother Jon had given her back at Winterfalls as a token of remembrance and in memory of her slaughtered parents and appreciation of her preference for personal vengeance.

"Whoa…Nice piece…" Wednesday's eyes lit up.

Sansa frowning… "A lady does not carry such vile things."

Hmmn…Wednesday pondered…Cool sword vs impressin' Ser Lotus with her ladylike qualities…

Tough call…

But one can always resume one's sword play and ax-wielding after the wedding, like Grandma did. Then it's like a bonding thing with the hubs…As well as contributing that often decisive extra sword or ax to the fight.

"When the Citadel Maesters perfect the revolver, I'll glad pack one…" Arya noted… "Till then, it's me IcePick…" she waved her sword about.

"Gods! You'll stick someone with that thing!" Sansa hollered, dodging.

"That's the point, kiddo." Arya noted. "Weds? Wanna grab a stick and we'll play Knights and evil rapist Knights?"

"Uh…" Wednesday pondered, looking about…

Hmmn…No sign of Ser Lotus…

"Thank Gods Prince Joffrey isn't around…You can be so embarrassing, Arya." Sansa fumed.

"Yeah…? Well not all of us can be simps…'Oh, no, Prince Jofo, I'm not the type to fight for the honor of me house and avenge me parents. I wanna be Queen and do your laundry while you go kill cats or torture peasants.' Geesh…" Arya, scornfully.

"It's not our place to do the personal vendetta thing…The boys'll do that." Sansa insisted. "Besides, as Queen I could get Joff to kill Ser Walter for political reasons and seduce him into making it painful." She noted calmly.

Arya eyed Wednesday…Wednesday, Arya. Both offering surprised nods…

Not all that bad a plan, really.

"I doubt you'd have to seduce that twerp into torturing anyone…He'd be pleased to do it, probably wouldn't legally kill someone any other way." Wednesday noted.

"Fer sure…" Arya nodded. A Southlands expression she'd picked up on the trip and found she rather liked…

"How dare you call my betrothed a twerp?!" Sansa fumed.

"Is it on for real?" Wednesday stared. "I figured when your pa and ma got croaked, it was off…"

"Queen Cersei says the lamentable accidental deaths of our dear parents will make no difference to the arrangements." Sansa sniffed, proudly. "He's still all mine…"

"And you are welcome to him…" Wednesday sighed with relief. "The way he was sniffing around me at Swampflood during the visit, I thought for sure his dad had decided to seal the Hand deal with me. Take him, please. And thanks." She grinned at the grinning Arya.

"Joffrey was…?" Sansa, blinking…Eyes locking narrowly with grim and growing hatred.

My Joff?

"He was all over me like a sick puppy…" Wednesday shook her head. "'Oooh Lady Wednesday, please let me walk you to the gate'…'Oooh, Lady Wednesday, here's a nest of baby robins I had my Airedale bring down and strangle for you this fair morning'…Gods…So embarrassing…"

"You're not fit to receive a beating from one of his guards!" Sansa, furious, rising as if to stalk off.

"Wooooo….Grrrrrrr…" Arya, grinning as she made animal noises. Sansa glaring but thinking better of stalking off into gods' know what terrors of the night, sat again.

"It's not proper to speak of the heir to the throne that way. Not that he could be seriously interested in you. He was just being princely and all, as befitting a charming princely guest in your home."

Which I will see is burned to the ground when I'm Queen, Sansa thought grimly.

Hmmn…Wednesday reflected.

Perhaps not the sort of thing Ser Lotus would approve of…In his future bride.

Probably not good politically either for the sake of his House…

"You think I should apologize…?" Wednesday, a bit anxiously.

"Apologize?" Arya snorted with derision. "I'd gut him and dump the body in the nearest pig trough."

"Arya!" Sansa glared, but eyed Wednesday with suspicion.

This sounds like trouble…

"No." she shook head. "It would be best if you kept as far away from the Prince as possible. Bury your misguided behavior in memory and for shame avoid him at all times. All times…" she nodded.

I wonder how much a skilled assassin costs? Surely to kill a little bitch like Wednesday it couldn't be too expensive…

"You don't think I should say I'm sorry your Highness or something?" Wednesday asked.

"Not a word…Nor a look…Just let it be forgotten." Sansa insisted.

"Gods you two are both wussies…" Arya frowned. "But she's giving you the business, Wed. I wouldn't waste spit on him but if you're concerned you made a faux pas, I'd just tell him you're sorry. Ask your dad, the new Hand, he'll back me up."

"Arya…" Sansa hissed.

Maybe assassins do two-fers at cut rates, she pondered.

"Sansa…" Arya glared. "Instead of bitchin' about that wuss you might be helpin' me plan how we'll avenge our house on Ser Walter…Though first I do wanna find out who put him up to it. Jon and Robbed were sure he'd never have had the guts to do it on his own. Someone offered him protection if things went South. And that someone is here, in the South…In that city…" she nodded at the lights of Kings' Landing.

"Maybe the Lannisters…" Wednesday shrugged. "Though, it does seem stupid for a guy as clever as Tywin's supposed to be to go and kill two Hands of the King in succession when he could have made a bid for the throne long ago. My gran doesn't think Tywin's behind it."

"Well, I'll keep them on my list…But I want to be sure I get everyone…" Arya noted. "So for now, I'll hone me killin' skills and get the lay of the land while your father's power opens doors and protects us. Tell me he won't be as easy as a mark as me own wonderful but naïve dad?"

"Arya?!" Sansa, shocked.

"Oh, come on…It's true. Dad was an honorable guy but it was naively stupid of him to believe people would act as honorably as he did." Arya shrugged. "When you play Game of Thrones you best be ready to get down in the blood-stained mud and kill, kill, kill till you win or die. I mean to win." She patted IcePick.

"Cool…I'll be rootin' for ya, from the sidelines as I marry Ser Lotus." Wednesday noted happily.

Hmmn? Sansa stared.

Well…If she lookin' that way…

Maybe the cash layout on an assassin can wait…

Wait.

"You? And that poof?" Arya blinked. "Wed, the guy's flamin'. Everyone says he's with Rently Barftheron…They might as well be married…And could be in Bravvosly…The Most Progressive of the Free Cities after Athens and its commie democracy talk."

"Arya…!" Both Sansa and Wednesday in chorus…

"Wussies, the both of ya…" she frowned at them.

Kaboom…A loud blast not far from them…Sparks flying…

All three eyeing each other as men and women screamed, horses neighed frantically and some broke from their posts.

"Pa?!" Wednesday called as Lord Gomez, face and clothes blackened, happily emerged from the black beyond their fire, King Robert in happy tow…

"Now that's fire powder!" Robert happily beamed to Gomez as they walked toward the ladies... "Lassies! Nice to see ya…Lady Wednesday, yer father's been showin' me his latest! Frig that Targaryen bit…uh, girly…and any dragons she may dig up, now!" he slapped Lord Gomez on the back, heartily. "Lady Arya, Lady Sansa…" he nodded.

"Well, we need a stronger containment vessel but you got the idea…" Gomez noted. "Sorry as to those two guards and the horse, though."

"They should listen when their King screams 'Take cover!'…" Robert shrugged. "But what a neat way to knock down fortress walls." He beamed.

"Not to mention what a neat thing for shows and night feasts!" Queen Cersei, hurriedly following… "Girls…" she nodded to them.

"True enough, true enough…" Robert nodded. "Gomez?" he turned to him. "You think you can put this stuff into production soon?"

"Give me a few shekels and a staff and in a month we'll have a firepowder plant. The right containment vessel may take longer but we'll work it out." Lord Gomez, confidently.

"You take all you need, my Lord Hand…" Robert grinned. "You're stuck with the power, may as well use it, eh?"

"The Alchemists' Guild already has a wildfire production plant…We can convert to include firepowder, no problem." Cersei noted, pleased at Robert's appreciative grunt of approval.

"Your Majesties…" Sansa curtsied…Motioning for Arya to as well, which Arya did with some reluctance. Wednesday eagerly copying Sansa in curtsy, with perhaps a tad less grace.

"Tres elegant, ladies…" Cersei smiled, looking rather radiant as she took Robert's arm.

"Not the worst idea I've ever heard in these miserable years as king…Cersei." Robert noted… "I suppose we ought to have a look over when we get to the cesspit."

"Your Majesty…" Sansa, a bit anxiously. "Is there word of Prince Joffrey?"

"On his way from Swampflood…" Cersei, a bit less radiant. "But he should be here soon." Hastily. "You see, the King wanted him to have a chance to tour the North and show himself to the people there."

"Good an explanation as anything else…" Robert, surprisingly unbelligerently. "Well, why don't we try one more and keep the guards on their toes, eh? Gomez?…Cersei…?"

Cersei, coy look at ground… "Oh, yes, my king…" rapturous look.

Gomez winking back at the girls as the three headed off…

Nothing like a little high explosive to rekindle romance.

"Say, Bob…" he noted as he led the Barftherons to find a relatively safe testing field…

"As long as we're considering firepowder production…"

"That again?" Robert eyed him.

"What?" Cersei stared.

"Oh, he wants me to see about a new mineral deposit…" Robert noted. "For that railroad scheme of his…"

"Well, Bob…" Gomez noted. "The stuff has many uses. Though there are drawbacks in its use to be worked out to avoid air and water problems…"

"What stuff?" Cersei eyed them.

As marital partner taking a proper interest in the husband's activities, same for the Queenly thing…And as a Lannister, whose instincts must be aroused by any word of a potential new resource…

"What is it? Coke?" Robert, to Gomez.

"Coal…" Gomez corrected.

"Right, right. Well…We can talk it over…You're the Hand after all…But lets see that stuff explode again, eh? Say, maybe we can kill something big with it this time?" Robert eagerly. "I'm sure it'd splatter a boar's guts something awful." He beamed as the three made their way away from the fire, the girls watching…

Cersei eagerly suggesting she'd heard of some deer to the far side of the big field to the left as they headed off…

While watching from beyond the flames, just at the edge of a tent, a male attendant gave narrow glance after them…

Must get word at once to… "Aw, damn!" he groaned, looking at his new shoes in the horse muck of the King's Road.

When the damned Hell are we gonna invent pavement?

…

Meanwhile in the deep dungeons of Swampflood…

Where even a determined Fester has had to call it a night…The imprisoned Maester Mengele apparently having or knowing nothing more to say.

Though if the wussies would just let him get creative tomorrow…

But as the Maester moans in his comatose state…A dark figure in black creeps through the …Well, dark…Of the dungeon, peering into various cells. Hmmn…Empty…Skeleton still hangin' from chains too long rotted to be his or her target…Ah…Occupied sign and signs of breathin' from the victim hanging from the chains…

Must be it…A pass key slid into the lock and the door with its iron bars and heavy wood frame opens…With rather unfortunate creak…

Have to be quick about it…But one quick slice across the throat and Maester Mengele will be a most silent counselor and agent…Hurried rush forward.

"What The Fuck!" Lady Addams, enjoying the beneficial effects of a night's rest well stretched as recommended by her own Maester of Chiropracty, her howls echoed as the assassin receives a firm kick from her where it counts.

A box on the wall opening…A hand quickly reaching for the alarm rope…Bells immediately ringing.

"You rang?! UUUUUUHHHHHHHH!" Lurch, immediately on point, grabbing the hapless, groaning assassin and shaking head slightly at the large dagger now firmly lodged in his arm.

Uhhhh….

"Lurch! Don't let that fellow escape!" Lady Addams cried.

"What's up!" Fester had entered, in black tunic, from his cot in Mengele's cell. Not liking to leave so valuable a prisoner to the keep of mere jailers. "Oh, doing your back cure, Maud?" he eyed the hanging Lady Maud…

"Fester! Summon the guard and help Lurch with that fellow…And get me down!" she fumed.

"Mama?! Uncle Fester?! Lurch?! Hello, who are you?" Lady Morticia had arrived, candle in hand, wearing black nightgown.

The tall would-be assassin, secure in Lurch's vise grip, merely gasped for air, kicking legs while dangling.

"Lurch, you'd better let him down." Morticia urged.

"But don't let him get away…!" Lady Maud called. "And could someone please release the chain for me?"

"Uhhhhhhhhhhhh…" the assassin, surprising them all. Lurch staring, a bit peeved.

My line…He gave grim, cocked-eyed stare…At the…

Hmmn…

"Not him….Uuuuuhhhhhhhh…Her…" Lurch noted, having lowered the young woman to the floor but keeping firm grip. She revealed as a rather lovely girl, in fact, a rather familiar lovely girl.

"Young lady." Morticia eyed her sternly. "What is the meaning of this?"

"It's Roz, from the brothel on the edge of the Great Swamp…" Fester eyed her.

Hey, Fes…She smiled brightly.

"From the brothel, eh?" Lady Maud, just released from her chiropractic harness and chain…Thank you, Thing…And thanks for the alarm…She noted…The hand giving a thumbs' up before re-entering its box. "Prostitute/assassin, I see…Nice to have a dual career."

"Unless…" Fester pondered. "No chance you were making a late call in costume?"

"Uh…Well…" Roz beamed brightly.

"With assassin's dagger?" Lady Maud, archly…Pulling dagger from Lurch's unbleeding arm and displaying it. "This is no penknife, you know."

"Thank you, Lady Addams…Uuuuhhhh…" Lurch noted.

"My Lady…Ve are here!" Ser Arnold and several other knights and guards had heeded the call and raced to the dungeons…

"Would you believe my client's a bit on the wild side?" Roz tried as Lady Morticia ordered the arriving knights to take up guard positions about the dungeon and around the castle. Assassin watch in effect…

"You were sent here to kill our prisoner, Maester Mengele." Morticia frowned sternly. Lady Addams, grimly. Fester, looking a bit disappointed.

Roz…Geesh…My and Tyrion Lannister's favorite local whore…

"Now why would anyone hire me to do that?" Roz, innocently. "I'm just your average lovable local whore, doing a service call as Lord Fester was saying…"

"Young lady…" Morticia glared. "Any service calls at this hour, and involving daggers and assassins garb are utterly unacceptable, regardless of whether we believed or not."

"Obviously whoever corrupted the Maester and was paying him to finish off…?!" Lady Maud blanched. Morticia blanched…Lurch unable to get paler but clearly concerned…As the same thought occurred.

The Boys!

"Fester! You and the guards hold the lady here and see no one else comes after Mengele!" Lady Maud called to Fester and several guards as still more entered the chamber. "Morticia…" she blinked to see Lady Morticia had already fled the chamber, racing to defend her boy…And hurried after, summoning two of the knights to follow…Ser Arnold one…

"Really, this is all just a misunderstanding…" Roz tried, giving Fester her most innocent and winning smile.

"Ah, Roz…" Fester sighed. "And here I was all set to propose next week…"

…..

The Swampflood Keep now alive with running guards, attendants, knights…Morticia followed by attendants she summoned as she raced along the halls, calling for help for the boys…Lady Maud in close pursuit, Ser Arnold at her heels…

Morticia entering the boys' bedroom/makeshift hospital room to find a terrified man in black on the floor being held down by the combined forces of Pugsly's Swamp Thing Hoodoo and Branded's direwolf, Summer.

"Help! Help! I'm losing me mind!" the man screamed, clearly in a pitiable state now…The two animals backing off at Morticia's stern command. The badly wounded man, bald with much of his black clothing torn away, one leg nearly torn off, arm ripped open stared up at his rescuer, only to be even more terrified at Morticia's fierce and icy stare.

"Guards! Fetch Maester Luwyn at the Stark guest quarters! You, tear up that sheet!" she called at end to one female attendant who pulled the requested sheet over tearing…Morticia quickly tying it as a tourniquet on the man's leg. Lady Maud now arriving, nodding at the fast work…Worthy of battlefield first aid…

"Torch!" she called in turn… The man eyeing her, curious if in agony…His curiosity turning to a hideous rolling of eyes in agony as she flamed his leg wound to sear it closed.

"ARRRRRRGGGGGGHHHHHHHH!…AHHHHH!" the howl…

"What a two year old…" Lady Maud glared. "You're clearly a veteran, where's your balls?!" she frowned at the man. Who blinked at her, then fainted…

"Seriously…Where are his balls?" she eyed Morticia as they stared by her torch's light at what should have been his animal tearing exposed manliness. "The bastard's a eunich." She eyed Morticia. As Robbed Stark entered, still in nightdress. "The guards just called me, Maester Luwyn's coming after. Are the boys…?"

"Mom?" Pugsly's voice… "Are the lemon cakes there?" eager tone.

"Get off me, Pugs! We're gonna…Fall…" Branded's cry from his bed.

"Prostitutes and eunuchs as spies/assassins…" Lady Maud eyed Lady Morticia…As Robbed and the attendants rushed to the now conscious boys…

"Now who does that spell to you?" she frowned.

…

The Wall…Fabulous construct of past centuries sealing off the Far North and its ever wintry though apparently rather livable and even reasonably prosperous lands, given the surprisingly large population of wildthing nomads, large guys, and various animals including elsewhere extinct woolly mammoths, giant sloths, exceptional bears (smarter than the average Night Watcher ranger), and Walker zombies, from the southern lands.

Specifically the great fortress of the Night Watchers'…The rather too few, the proud…The Black Keep…

Where new recruit Jon Snowed was already engaged in proving himself a manly man among manly ne'er-do-wells, ruined knights, rapists, thieves, poachers, escaped slaves, and his own unwanted bastards group…

"All right…You scum, you vermin…Lets see what you can do with our little rich bastard, Lord Snowed!" the Guards Commander and Master of Training, Ser Allister Chip de la Shoulder growled, tossing one hapless untrained lad after another at the rather naturally, given the rich lord's son angle, experienced in swordplay, fencing, and thwacking, Jon.

"He might really consider either trying more than one at a time or someone with a little experience in fighting." The latest newly arrived visiting dignitary, Tyrion Lannister, noted to the Watcher Commander, Lord Monumental as they watched. Lord Monumental sighing a bit…

"One cannot get good trainer help these days…" shake of head as five lusty lads attempting to overcome Snowed are variously BAMMED! POWWED! WHAMMED! Back…Several hurled into various locations, including snowbanks, pig mire, firewood pile, cow manure pile.

"Nor good trainee help…" Tyrion noted.

"Indeed…"Sigh…But followed by shrewd appraising stare…Monumental well aware that interesting and useful things may yet come in small packages.

"Just why have you chosen to grace us with your visit now, Lord Tyrion?" Monumental asked him as they watched another round of Jon Snowed tossing the entire new class of recruits about like rag dolls.

"Nothing like having enough cash, even if illegitimate, on hand in the family to get that fine training in the martial arts, eh my Lord Commander?" Tyrion asked, non-committally, as they both watched Snowed...And the frowning Ser Allister shaking head at his battered men.

"No, nothing quite…We could use a few more wealthy families with disposable sons who want to win a few honor plaudits up here." Monumental agreed, pausing. "Might I offer my own assessment of your reasons for coming?"

"By all means, Lord Commander…" Tyrion took up a post by a wood column.

"Your gracious father, Lord Tywin, disdains us in terms of the mystical mumbo-jumbo about Walkers and Giants and Mammoths and Walking Dead…Thinks it's all childish fable to frighten kids and keep our budgets high."

"He's keeping an open mind as to the mammoths, but basically, yes." Tyrion nodded. "Though I would tell him he's not quite right with regards to the high budgets.:

"Quite…" Monumental, steady gaze at Tyrion... "But he does believe in the wildthing marauders, doesn't he? As do you?"

"Since they are constantly found South of the Wall, I'd say he and I have some valid reason for such…" Tyrion.

"And you were sent to assess the situation here…" Monumental eyed Tyrion as Tyrion called down to the boys lying scattered about Jon Snowed. "A hit! A palpable hit! Or rather, several, I should say! My father..?" He turned back to Monumental… "Well, you should know my father would rather see me stuffed with horse dung and hanging as a grotesque scarecrow in his fields than admit he'd assigned me anything so important." Tyrion joked.

"Excepting the low opinion I know he holds of us…" Monumental, smoothly. "Lord Tyrion, we're quite happy to accept any help offered. Winter is coming and I don't say that as a Stark…It is and we're not prepared for it, not as we are now with numbers and quality low, and supplies often rare to non-existent. If Lord Tywin asked you to see what's what here, we're grateful and we say, we'll take any help he can offer. It will be to his benefit, even if he doesn't believe the worst legends are true and merely sees us as a doddering border patrol.

"Well, I can't say as to the secret mission but I will say…" Tyrion beamed. "I think you're a worthy investment and I will urge Father to do what can be done."

"You'll have our eternal thanks…And the begrudging gratitude of the Kingdom, though they'll do their best to forget all you and we saved them from here."

"Always the way…" Tyrion nodded.


	16. Chapter 16

Game of Thrones Tales: Lannister Family Values

Summary: In an alternative universe, King Robert calls on a different old friend and brother to assist him. But whose decency, kindness, and sense of honor, while a bit different from Ned Stark's are equally strong. But are the family values of House Addams a match for the ruthless Lannisters?

Part XVI…

The mid North, en route to Kings' Landing…

"So you insolent peasant dog, you dare to threaten your future king?!" Joffrey, sword raised at the terrified said peasant boy, a dark-haired gangly, trembling one, now firmly if reluctantly held in the grip of the Airdale. Staring at the slight if magnificently decked out figure before him, seemingly dropped out of the clouds or wherever them royals lived.

"I was but fishin' your whatever's the title, sir…This is naught but a fishin' pole, sir." The boy nodded at the pole Joffrey had had the Airdale grab and break on encountering the boy at the river's bank. Joffrey naturally panicking as the boy turned, pole still in hand, to see who might be acomin'…Perhaps Gran with me lunch?

"Such insolence…For that, the price is one toe…Tell me, which shall it be, you peasant scum?!" Joffrey sneered. "Come, come, your future king generously offers you a choice." Hmmn…He eyed the toes in open sandals as the terrified boy stared blankly. "Very well then, let me assist you. Eenie, meanie, mynie, moe…I'd say this is the toe to…" slash at little toe on right foot as the boy howled. Naturally, Joffrey backing in panic as the boy writhed in agony, gasping.

"Hold him, you fool!" Joffrey cried. The Airdale sighing as he gripped the poor kid steadfast.

Things one must do to keep a middle class paycheck these days…

But, work is work.

"You cur! You pup! You vomitous scum!" Joffrey addressed the boy as the boy wailed, trying to rub his one-toe-less foot in the dirt to stop the bleeding. The boy paralyzing again as he felt Joff's sword on his cheek.

"Well…" Joffrey eyed the slightly fear-benumbed boy. "I was unjust there. I'd promised to let you choose the toe to lose. But, no matter…" jolly air, beaming smile. "You've still nine to go! Ha, ha, ha!"

Lords…The Airdale sighed. My homicidal maniac brother, the Heavy, may be a murderous psycho but at least he's got balls. Can't wait for this one to take the throne and get torn to pieces by a mob or poisoned by a worried mother or grandmother of the girl he gets betrothed to.

"Arrgh!" the boy screamed as Joffrey having suggested he pick a number from one to nine and if he guessed right, no more toes would go…Naturally, he picked wrong…Though at least this time he'd been allowed to choose, Joff cheerfully noted, waving struck-off toe.

"Well, I've places to see, people to terrorize, hearts to win. Oh, boy…Don't forget to tell your father to vote the Barftheron slate for magistrate and council in the next town, or village?..." he paused.

"Village…Me Lord…" the boy, moaning a bit as the Airdale released him.

"…And a fine one, I'm sure…" winning smile… "…village council election."

"There be only one slate of candidates, me Lord. The Lord's Whatshisname's…Our great local lord." the boy, whimpering a bit less now as the Airdale bound his bleeding foot with a neckcloth, patting him.

"Really? That's awful…Feudalism at its unjust worst." Joffrey frowned. "Well, in one of my bizarre changes of mood I shall commit myself to nobly righting this wrong. Your Prince and future King shall see that free local elections are guaranteed, boy. Tell everyone you know, all your friends. Prince and future King Joffrey treats you people right." He beamed, waving.

"Yes, me Lord…Thanks me Lord." The boy haplessly waving

…

Casterly Rock…

(Cylon base star theme from the original Galactica series…)

Lord Tywin in elegant black armor, red robe over…Damned place is chillier than Winterfalls, when the hell do we reinvent the central heating the old Valerian Empire used to have?...Hell, if my damned ancestors had had any brains and kept a few tech manuals intact we wouldn't need the late Ned Stark's hot springs here…Seated in his office chair, surveying the vast realm outside.

Naturally clouds still storming just overhead…

His niece Tywina admitted at a knock by guards, hurried to fall on knee before him, offering a sealed raven's note with one hand.

"Speak…"

"My Lord Uncle…News from the capital." She waved the arm.

"You did read it, didn't you?" he frowned. "Knowledge is one form of power, remember that…Your cousin Cersei thinks she's clever when she tries to trump it with brutal force but she's a fool…Always seek to gain that inside info, Tywina." He motioned for her to rise… "I'm a busy man, give me the boiled-down version. No doubt Robert and co have reached Kings' Landing by now."

"Yes, Uncle…" she nodded, rising. "The King and his party, including his new Hand, Lord Gomez, are about to enter. A great celebration is being planned. Lord Belloq requests yet another loan to cover expenses."

"Idiotic nonsense. Though approved, since it winds the Kingdom further in our clutches. But, when we've got Joffrey or Tommen on the throne I shall see there's an end to that kind of heedless waste. We need infrastructure repair and real jobs, not this…All the cash going to the Free Cities' traders. But perhaps the new Hand will set things in better order. Jonny Arryn was always too indulgent of Robert's follies. Anything else?" he eyed Tywina.

"Our agents in the capital report that Lord Belloq and Lord Verymuchs continue to plot together, for their own ends."

"Yes, yes…Tell me something I don't know, girl…" he frowned. "I'm giving you valuable training in how to cut through crap here, remember it."

"Yes, my Lord Uncle…Lord Gomez has persuaded the King to take an interest in that new resource you were concerned about…" she eyed Tywin who gave her a keen look.

"Indeed…" he put hands together. "Now that is interesting. So Addams seeks to promote this same coal that someone has been securing the rights to, both here and in Essos. Most interesting…And gotten Robert to take a look at it, finally, eh? This is very useful, Tywina. We will have to act on it and again move to seek control of this potentially fabulous resource."

Really? That big a deal? I thought it just a messy black rock when a specimen got passed round at the last full meeting of the Lannister board.

"Yes…And to take an interest…" she paused. "Well, this other may be of little import…"

"Continue…That one useful tidbit has earned you a bonus point…" he nodded.

"…in the Queen." She finished.

"What? To take an interest in Cersei?" stare.

"They actually managed an evening together without bitterly castigating each other." She nodded.

"Gomez Addams arranged that…?" he rose.

"Uhh…Yes, it seems so, Uncle." She nodded, nervously…Uncertain.

"Gods be damned, what a thing…" he shook head. "They actually weren't cursing each other all evening, for once?"

"No, Uncle. In fact, the Queen was actually reportedly rather content, the whole evening. And King Robert actually said something polite to her on two occasions."

"Think of that…" he sighed. She staring in shock as a tear ran…

"Pardon me…It's just so nice to hear my little girl might finally be a tad happy." He shrugged. "I guess owe Lord Addams one. Note that if it still all goes to pot and war, you should remind me to spare one of his children from a grisly death. Then summon the board of relatives and principle bannermen…This matter of securing coal rights must be dealt with at once. I sense the future of our financial empire depends upon it."

"Yes, Uncle." Tywina beamed, making quick notes.

Always the kids first…That's why we almost love him as much as we all fear him…

…..

The royal camp, that evening…

A fuming Jamie, resplendent in his Kingsguard armor and waving hair, striding about…All knights and guards bearing anything resembling arms carefully avoiding him, quite aware from past experience that his favorite way of relieving tension is a bit of knightly slaughter. All but The infamous Heavy, Ser Raging Pus de la Boil, who would like nothing better than to test his strength, insane ferocity, and huge bulk against the, relatively speaking, little girly man Kingslayer.

However, Jamie Lannister is the son of Tywin Lannister and angry…Not suicidally insane.

Pissed though, in fact…

Hey, nearly killed two young boys to cover my incestuous relationship and here, a few weeks in transit home, what do I find on seeking the girl I did it for? She's freaking unable to see me, because she's freakin' having "quality time" with her hubbie, Robbie. "But the Queen did say, she'd try to see you later, for a moment…" the messenger returning her answer to his note requesting a later rendezvous told him. With, of course, considerable…And utterly justifiable…Trepidation.

Sadly, for Jamie…Brightly for the messenger, a young squire with everything to hope for and a promising future backed by the gold he'd been paid to dispose of his former lord, Jon Arryn, the messenger had not born arms of any kind.

"Uh…Any reply, my Lord?" the young squire, nervously.

"Reply? As in, sending your severed head back? Or perhaps you with head, sans arms?" Jamie eyed him coldly, hand twitching by side of sword.

"Uh…I was hoping more in the line of a verbal or written message, my Lord Lannister." The messenger noted.

"Just tell that…Sister…Of mine…" grim stare. "I wish her every happiness…" grit of teeth. "And I'll see her in the morning…"

The messenger blinked…Mental praise to the gods, desperate promise never to kill for money and profit again unless really serious threat to family and loved ones, not just implied as this time…Nodded…Bowed… "My gracious Lord…" Very gracious…Thank you, thank you, thank you…And headed off, quickly as his feet and the mire in the barely torch-lit darkness would allow.

"Bet it won't even throw her…" Jamie muttered. "She'll simply be pleased I'm taking it so well…" He threw himself down near a fire which was hastily deserted by the few guards about it at his grim…You boys do have somewhere else you can be, right?...Stare.

Far away stare into flames, musing…Chin cupped in hands on sword hilt of sword plunged into the mire beside him.

(Music playing in background…Mistrel Bono testing a new one for the King's upcoming festival for the new Hand…)

Jamie:

"I have climbed the highest mountains…I walked through bloody fields…

Only to be with you…Only to be with you…" Image of Cersei in dress to his vision…

Meanwhile, alone at the Wall…In fact having had his moment of self-appointed glory in pissing off it…A reflective Tyrion, echoing Jamie's thoughts, on a different girl…His beloved, lost peasant whore wife, Tysh…Whom he'd "rescued" one day with Jamie and believing she'd come to love him, married, regardless of her low rank…Only to learn from his brother's words after that she'd been a working girl, hired to play damsel in distress as a well-meant gift of his brother's. And a week later his furious father, learning the joke had gone to extremes, angrily annulled the marriage, and forced him to watch the girl being taken as a whore by all his men, he being forced to take her last. Only the odd look of despair and scorn in her eyes meeting his own anger at betrayal had left him puzzled and troubled all these years since…

Not so much as to risk either his dad's monumental wrath or learning that Tysh had merely been annoyed at being overworked…But…Still…

Nah…Heck, Jamie had backed Dad up on the whore business…Surely he knew if Dad didn't that such a complete betrayal as gang-raping his wife, leaving her believing her husband had been in on it, and letting him let her go, believing the story would be a killable, family-tie severing…Heck family-destroying…Offense. No, Jamie'd never had betrayed him that way at least.

Still…

Jamie:

"I have run…"

Tyrion:

"I have crawled…"

Jamie: Tyrion:

"I have scaled these fortress walls…" "This giant Wall…"

Jamie at the fire/Tyrion at the Wall:

"Only to dream of you…"

"But I still haven't found…

What I'm lookin' for.

No, I still…Haven't found…

What I'm lookin'…" (Dear God, that is a long drop…Tyrion blinked, peering…)

"…For…

No, I still…Haven't found…

What I'm lookin' for."

Robert, in Cersei's wagon tent, lying next to her:

"I have kissed honey lips  
>Felt the healing in her finger tips<br>It burned like fire  
>(I was)<br>Burning desire…"

Cersei, gently stroking him:

"I spoke with the tongue of angels  
>I have held the hand of a devil<br>It was warm in the night  
>I was cold as a stone…"<p>

Jamie, Tyrion, Robert, Cersei:

"But I still haven't found  
>What I'm looking for<br>But I still haven't found  
>What I'm looking for…"<p>

At Kings' Landing, in his darkened office, seated…Lord Verymuchs looks out over the city:

"I believe in the Kingdom Come  
>Then all the royal colors will bleed into one<br>Bleed into one  
>But, yes, I'm still plotting…"<p>

Jamie, Tyrion each sighing at their respective locations:

"I broke the bonds  
>And I loosed the chains<br>Now I carry the cross of my shame  
>Oh, my shame, you know I believe it…"<p>

Jamie, Tyrion, Robert, Cersei, Lord Verymuchs, joined by Lord Belloq and Lord Tywin at their various locales, Belloq and Tywin like Verymuchs looking out from office windows, and by Danerys Targaryn and Ser Jonah at their camp in Essos, likewise staring out at the night:

"But I still haven't found  
>What I'm looking for<br>But I still haven't found  
>What I'm looking for<p>

But I still haven't found  
>What I'm looking for<br>No I still haven't found  
>What I'm looking for…"<p>

"Nicely done, Minstrel Bono…" Lord Gomez had strolled over…In part to politely avoid the caterwauling coming from the royal wagon tent. "But methinks you might want to add a few extra players…"

Everyone's a critic, Minstrel Bono, bowing but inwardly frowning…


	17. Chapter 17

Game of Thrones Tales: Lannister Family Values

Summary: In an alternative universe, King Robert calls on a different old friend and brother to assist him. But whose decency, kindness, and sense of honor, while a bit different from Ned Stark's are equally strong. But are the family values of House Addams a match for the ruthless Lannisters?

Part XVII…

Royal Camp outside Kings' Landing…

Knights wandering about, occasionally testing swords, chatting about the latest deaths in tourney, minor skirmishes with brigands, at the hands of jealous husbands and boyfriends and violated women, in accidents with armor removal…"So they were unscrewing Sir Jocquen's armlet and the damned thing took his arm off like a can opener, when they invent those…", chatting up some of the ladies-in-waiting and other available women, or offering challenges, generally out of boredom rather than legitimate cause. The few women knights sharing tales and avoiding stares or insults from the bigger jerks among the male knights or offering challenges, some of which were accepted. All challenges to be met out of the King's presence… Much as Robert would love to see a good bloody duel, it being officially frowned on out of official tourney or valid battle. Attendants of both sexes hurrying to perform minor tasks, some delaying service, trying to chat up serving men and women or even the occasional lady or lord or meet up with friends, some simply lazying about trying to seem occupied. Children scurrying to and fro, royals and nobly born mixing with servant children. Animals, pets like dogs and cats, horses, livestock, and the occasional forest creature, wandering everywhere.

Robert and Cersei on mutual portable folding thrones, languidly holding court as the morning wore on and the temperature rose, even Cersei a bit anxious to get through the tedious business of running the kingdom so as to pursue the latest odd turn in their marital relationship… The traveling Kingsguard standing by, Jamie in command. Lord Gomez Addams, new Lord Hand of the King, with other nobles in the royal party, waiting attendance on their Majesties.

"So…" Robert looked about. "We'll take another day to give the Council a chance to get things in order for our procession into town. They want to give the people a parade, good for morale, they say. Sides, after these weeks of travel, we need another day to get the muck off and make things shine. Eh?"

"Ay, another day, my sweet…" Alone, somewhat together, and away from the capital, the dreary details of kingship, and the whores and hunting/drinking parties…She did not say. Though her look to Robert's suggested a certain personal delight in the decision. "And we should give Joff a chance to catch up with us. He should be in the procession and show himself to the People."

"Right, yeah…Crown Prince and all that…" Robert nodded.

Oh…He agrees with me one more time and my heart will explode…Cersei beamed at him. He eyeing her rather pleasantly in turn.

Ah, what the hell…She suddenly gave vent to the hearty belch she'd nearly repressed. "Sorry…" grin to Robert who gave her a mock-stunned look. "Upset tummy overcoming milady?"

"Just declaring my stake in the Barftheron side of the family, Robbie…" she smiled. Robert chuckling…

Now's there a side of her I could get to liking…

Really a rather hot woman all-in-all I married…And Gods know, I really don't even remember what Cicely looked like. Though that could easily be all the drinking and head-banging…

"If you're care to have us send scouting parties back for the young Prince, your Majesties…" Gomez offered.

"That would be nice…Joff would love seeing us show a little concern." Cersei noted to Robert.

"I suppose it'd give some of these loutabouts something to do. They might even find a brigand or two to kill for justice's sake." He nodded. "Do so, my Lord Hand."

Oh, Bobby…Cersei beamed.

Support for me, concern for Joff…It's like I'm living a dream…

"Well, that's that…" Robert, with sigh. "Anything else? The King needs a crack at the alternate Throne…" he eyed the newly dug latrine across the way.

"Majesty…There's considerable business piled up during the Royal Progress…" a nervous adviser noted.

"Eh…Let Lord Addams attend to it. You'll need to get acquainted with the details anyway, Gomez." Robert grinned to Addams. "Afraid I'd handed the shit to you, my Lord Hand." He rose, Cersei rising, all rising or those standing snapping to attention.

"Another five minutes and I wouldn't be able to be raised out of that chair without four men…" Robert joked. "Eh, well…I'm for a good long sit on the other throne and then, if your Grace would care to consult on 'state business'…" he eyed Cersei who blinked at him.

Uh… "Oh, yeah…" she beamed. "I'll just see to the children and meet you."

"Sire…" the nervous adviser and senior diplomat, hesitantly.

"What now?" Robert frowned.

"There was the urgent business of the Targaryens…"

"The boy's in his early grave, thank you Doofraki savage maniacs…" Robert noted with mock intonation and roll of eyes heavenward. "The girl's a kid you lot all keep telling me is no threat, plus now we have our own new super weapon, courtesy our new Hand, to counter anything she and her dimwitted savage of a husband might come up with. No need to go bloodying our hands with the skank now. Case closed. Now to me crapping session and then to business with me Queen. We'll meet again after supper when it's cooled the hell down." He strode off.

"Yeah…" Cersei breathed. "Uh, where are the kids?" she turned to one of her ladies.

"Playing with the Stark and Addams children, your Grace." The woman noted.

"I'll see them in my tent…" Cersie ordered, rising. "My lords and ladies." All bowing to her as she marched off.

Loud groans from within the hastily erected latrine…

The adviser sighing to Lord Addams… "You see the trouble, my Lord Hand. It can be difficult to get the King to attend to business." He reflected. "Though usually the Queen is a bit more willing to fill in than today…"

"Well…I think we can allow them a day off for a little r-and-r to recharge the soul." Gomez noted, indulgent smile. "And I do need a chance to get up to speed on matters."

R-and-r? The whole reign has been one long r-and-orgy, the adviser thought.

To think I gave up a promising legal career at Lannister and Lannister and yes, Lannister, for this…

….

Swampflood…

The boys' sick room, where the paralyzed Branded and Pugsly were currently abed, listening to the gory tales of Lady Addams' and various ill-fated winter campaigns.

"So, you want to hear tales of the long winter, eh boys? Tales of monsters and gory death in the dark cold hallows as men and women died, preferring a warm, quick gush of their own bubbling blood leapin' into the frozen snow to make a red pool, to the horrors of a slow, icy death…Or even worse, to fall into the hands of the Walkers… Well, havin' been on many an insane campaign during the long winters, where mad kings like Napoleon I Targaryen would vaingloriously march with his unvanquished royal army into the snows of the far North of Essos or here in our North beyond the Wall and from which only a handful, usually led back by me would return."

"Really, Gran?" Pugsly, eagerly.

"Does an Addams lie, boy?" grim stare over knitting needles concealing just-in-case stiletto.

One truly never knows…Especially after the late Ms. Roz's failed effort.

Ms. Roz currently gracing the bottom of the hog trough after failing to survive a rather brutal trial by combat.

But hey…The bitch chose tbc, dared me, and it seems…I've still got it, Lady Maud thought, rather pleased.

Just as well the children were either in the capital or to paralyzed to watch though…She was, after all, a rather pretty thing in her whorish way…And not bad with sword and battleaxe...

Though obviously…Yours truly? Better…She nodded to herself.

"So will we ever walk again?" Branded asked.

"With your own legs?" Lady Maud eyed him. "Probably not…I'm assumin' you two want the gods' honest truth and not some 'happy talk'."

"Yeah…" Branded sighed.

"I…Guess…" Pugsly, clearly not too sure of that.

"Doesn't mean you can't find another way to get about." She noted.

"I've got just the thing, fellas!" Fester's happy voice…He entering the chamber in a rush, dragging a crate from which screams and squeals were coming. "Hogmobile!"

"Fester…" Maud sighed.

"No, it's a great idea…" he beamed to her. "We strap the boys by special harness to their own hogs…"

"Cool…" Pugsly beamed.

"No." Maud frowned sternly. Fester eyeing her… "No?"

"No." she repeated.

"Well, then…How about taking some of Gomez's lightning storage jars and…You know, like the way he and I made those frogs' legs twitch…?" he sighed at Maud's grim stare. "No?"

"No." grim stare.

"Some people just don't believe in modern medical science…" Fester sighed.

Morticia entered, Maud catching the icy look of rage before she put on a pleasant face for the boys.

Uh-oh. When my sweet and ever-patient d-i-l gets Frump furious, hell to be paid by someone.

"Hello boys, how are you?" Morticia beamed at the two boys.

"Not bad, considering the permanent paralysis, Mother." Pugsly replied, rather cheerily. "Uncle Fester wants to strap us to hogs. Can we?"

"Perhaps later…" Morticia, a bit bemused… "Mama? Could I have a word? Outside?"

"Fester…" Lady Maud gave stern look. "No…Experiments."

"Aw, Maud…" Fester sighed.

"Uncle Fester." Morticia, quietly but finally.

"Right." Renewed sigh.

The two women went out, Fester and the boys eyeing them. Pugsly turning head to Fester with questioning look as the door closed.

"Nah, your mom and gran'll kill me. And maybe the hogs were a bad animal choice. But I still say the electroshock idea'd work. If Gomez were here…" sigh.

Outside Maud turned to Morticia… "Well?" She eyed her suddenly stony face.

"Maester Mengele and the eunuch have talked, to spare their lives." Morticia noted. "Not that Lurch was really going to pull heads off, that needs a signed order from the King, but…"

"The direct approach usually works." Maud nodded. "Well?"

"That woman you took out in trial by combat, the popular courtesan/actress…Was working for the Lannisters. Hired by them as was the other and Mengele suborned by them."

"Lannisters, eh?" Maud, grim smile. "Well, I thought ole Tywin smarter than that. But, let me get my battle armor and summon the fellows. We'll have a battle plan by nightfall and march within four days…The southernmost bannermen can join us at…"

"Mama…" Morticia sighed. "We can't go to war with the King's in-laws. Not without more proof than two tortured and fearful men's statements."

"We can't?" Lady Maud blinked. "Robert went to war on a rumor that the Targaryen kid had made off with Gomez's sis. Everyone thought it was mutual consent but him…Though when Maester Purile testified before the Council that he had proof that the Mad King was preparing weapons of mass destruction..."

"Mama, I must go to the capital and speak with Gomez."

….

The Great Wall…

Tyrion, now ready to leave with a Night Watchers' team off to try and kidnap…er recruit new volunteers at the capital, eyed Lord Monumental in his black armor, the white-bearded face regarding him sternly as the Commander wished him safe journey back to the capital.

"You really think all that ancient monsters crap is for real?" Tyrion asked.

"I do…" Monumental nodded firmly. "And there'll be Hell to pay, at a cost even a Lannister might balk at, if we can't meet their challenge head on."

"Good talking point…Father'll like you taking it from that angle…" Tyrion nodded. "Well, as promised I'll do what I can when I reach the capital. At least he'll consider the matter of the wildling raids as serious. Jon Snowed?" He turned to Jon, who stood with the other new recruits to take leave of their noble guest. "Any messages for the family? I expect to stop by Winterfalls at least."

"Just give me best to Robbed, Ricketts, and the girls and my prayers for Branded." Jon nodded.

"Will do…" nod.

"And maybe a 'yo' to Roz? The brothel on the border of the Swampflood and Winterfalls holdings?"

"Indeed." Tyrion nodded. Refraining from mentioning his intimate knowledge of both the place and the lady in question.

"Sayin' bye-bye to yer lil' boyfriend, is it, Lord Snowed?" Ser Allister sneered to Jon. "Regular lovers pair are we?"

"You ought to know." Tyrion noted, archly.

Ser Allister, blinking…

My guilty secret ferreted out at last…?

Several of the recruits near Jon snorting a bit…Ser Allister casting anxiously angry looks about him…

"There's no need for that…It's me job to…You malicious little…" he insisted, hurrying off to barracks.

Was he weeping? Jon stared after him.

"Sensitive fellow, eh?" Tyrion to Monumental who shrugged. "Well. Tell him I'm always a bit out of sorts early in the morning."


	18. Chapter 18

Game of Thrones Tales: Lannister Family Values

Summary: In an alternative universe, King Robert calls on a different old friend and brother to assist him. But whose decency, kindness, and sense of honor, while a bit different from Ned Stark's are equally strong. But are the family values of House Addams a match for the ruthless Lannisters?

Part XVIII…

King's Landing…

Lord Verymuchs' inner office sanctum…

The Minister of Shadows at his desk writing two letters at once…One with left hand, the other, naturally, with right…

It's something you do when you're the Master of Shadows…

"My favored lord…" the eunich wrote…Right hand, in cypher… "All had been going well with our plans. King Robert sinking more each day into apathy and degeneracy, although still very much alert to any serious effort against his throne…His Queen his potentially most lethal enemy, desperate to keep the bastardy of her children a secret. Though, curiously as much for the King's benefit as her children, for, as you know, Barftheron is all sexual assault, no impregnation. Still, to protect her children as well as Robert's legacy, she was working herself up to croaking him if necessary…As we hoped…"

Left hand… "Majesty, reports of the surviving Targaryen pretender indicate that she has induced/seduced her horse lord hunk of a husband to consider a seaborne invasion of this continent. My 'little birds' of Essos tell me that Khan Khal has amassed a Doofraki force of about 40,000 which he hopes to embark in ships from one of the more or less (for a small minority of wealthy types) "Free" Cities. This however generally translates to more like 8000 managing to actually get here…"

Right hand… "…Leaving the kingdom in the hands of her borderline psychotic and what is worse in politics, criminally stupid, son Joffrey and potentially forcing our most feared enemy Tywin Lannister to emerge from his secure lair at Casterly Rock and take over the kingdom, exposing his empire and person at last to our attacks. All efforts currently directed at the Targaryen dynasty focus on Danerys while you are left safe to prepare…"

Left hand… "…So that a proper defense force should have a fair chance of hurling the invaders back into the sea if, as our Knights Marshall Rommel has urged, our armored horse divisions are kept within striking range of the coast…"

Right hand… "…Sadly this excellent state of affairs had been upset by the King's appointment of Lord Gomez Addams as new Hand in place of Jon Arryn and minus his would-have-been-partner Edduard (Silly way to spell Edward, eh? These Westerosians…) Stark. Though reputed to be as honorable and trusting a fool as Stark, Addams has displayed his famous 'eccentric' (read 'freakin' crazy', my lord) streak and acted to encourage reconciliation between Robert and his Queen. Worse yet…"

Left hand… "…Plus the good news of Lord Addams' new superweapon, fire powder…"

Right hand… "…The disturbing news of Lord Addams' new superweapon, fire powder…"

Left hand… "Should leave the realm quite secure for the foreseeable future."

Right hand… "…Acts as an equally serious threat, providing King Robert with a weapon that could potentially rout even a Doofraki army armed with their superweapon, the composite bow whose armor-penetrating power and ease of use on horseback even forced the old Valerian Empire's armies to take notice."

Left hand… "So my King, I close with this good news. Yours faithfully, etc. Verymuchs…"

Right hand… "So my future King, I close with…(Oh, damn, he crossed out…) "…I fear we must deal with Lord Addams as quickly as possible and use his downfall to ignite the civil war that will leave the populace howling for deliverance and the return of the Targaryen dynasty. Fortunately the plan I had prepared to lure Edduard Stark to his overtrusting destruction by feigning concern for the safety of the King and his dynasty and urging him to act against Queen Cersei and her family is still one that could potentially work with Lord Addams. To that effect, I must make use of my nemesis, the one man clever enough to see through my phony efforts to support King Robert and his House, and will now do so, hoping that my strategy, which needs must be carried out without your approval will in the act meet with such. Yours faithfully, etc. Verymuchs…"

Ok…Now just make sure I sent left hand's to King Robert and right's to Eegon in Essos.

Lords, it's tough enough to be a spymaster but to be a double-double agent, spymaster, and eunich…Ow… (Why do I have to keep reminding myself?)…That really sucks the big one.

Well, all for the cause of restoring peace…And order…To the Continent.

I mean the current negotiated peace with a degree of consent backed by chartered rights and laws without the constant naked use of force is all very well, but for real and lasting pacification you need a brutal ancient empire, ruled by a line of incestuously mad kings backed by airborne chemical fire-spewing monsters and rampaging barbarian hordes. Like in the good ole days of ancient Valeria…

Sigh…

Now I guess I'd better get these off and see about that deal with Middlefinger…I dread those negotiations once they get serious. Be like pulling teeth…I just know he'll demand the Eerie Eyrie and to be burgomeister of Cleveland as well as control over that new resource of Addams'. Coal, is it? Messy, nasty stuff. Still, it behooves me not to underestimate my old friend or his schemes, particularly given my own goals, both the unselfish one of restoring the true dynasty whose ancient right to the throne by slaughter and brutal conquest is obvious, and my personal one, perhaps a bit more selfish…To be First eunich Hand.

Of course one might consider that in the old Empire, prominent eunichs usually brought disaster upon themselves by becoming too prominent and easy scapegoats for the Valerian Emperors in times of trouble…Still…

Mom would be so proud…Though not of the eunich thing…

…..

The royal camp…Next morning…

Where a newly arrived and rather content… "Things went like headbusters up North, Dad…Literally."…Prince Joffrey with The Airedale at his back rehearsed his report while happily awaiting the emergence of the King and Queen from their tent.

Happily and patiently awaiting…Along with the traveling court…

Lord Addams at least kept busy enough with learning the ropes of his new position as well as drawing up plans to show the King and Queen for his fire powder plant and to outline his scheme for harvesting or more properly, "mining" the new "coal" resource.

To be used, after proper study to minimize the environment effects of such use, for heating and powering the new steam engines, for use in new medicines, and improve the quality of produced steel.

Yes, happily and patiently, truly patiently…Awaiting… Joffrey, looking round from where he stood.

Ah, a foeman worthy of my… He pulled back as a little man with sword in hand, a smithy delivering repaired sword, passed.

Perhaps a bit too experienced…He looks pretty good with that thing…

Wouldn't be sensible to have a noble prince bested merely because some nobody is practiced with sword, embarrassing for the kingdom. Not that he would best me but…No, what I need is some sturdy peasant who's never seen a blade in his or her miserable life…And no witnesses besides my own paid-off goons…

An attendant came forward… "My gracious Prince…The King and Queen are in conference and have stated they are not to be disturbed until they give word."

As in…Oh…My…Gods! The attendant thought, sighing slightly.

All very well this reconciliation thing but it is tying up business even more than usual until the new Hand is officially declared and recognized.

"Oh. You did tell them I was waiting. Their son, gone on tour for two weeks…?" Joffrey asked, a bit plaintive.

"I'm afraid they are taking no message unless one of the children is desperately ill or injured, my Prince. But I did leave the message with the captain of the Kingsguard, your gracious uncle."

"Lovely." Joffrey sighed. "Meaning he threw it in the mud and told you he wasn't an errand boy or messenger."

"My Prince demonstrates his ever-profound grasp of the inner workings of the kingdom, confirming his fitness for the throne." The attendant, suavely…Making gracious bow as he departed.

I could almost…Almost, as in if I weren't aware what a homicidal little maniac the twerp is…The Airedale thought, watching…Feel for the kid.

Gods know I know what miserable parenting is like…

"Well, We shall return when our gracious parents have completed their deliberations. Come, dog!" Joffrey called, turning on heel.

There must be some little dweeb around here I can injure or kill to impress Lady Wednesday.

…

Meanwhile…

At the traditional seat of the Barftheron clan, Storming's End…The seadocks...

"My gracious lord Ser Davos…" a nervous knight in resplendent robes standing on the docks eyed the rugged features of the famed ex-pirate, Westorosian Lord High naval commander Davos Seaworthy, known to all as the Spinach Knight. Trusted top aide to Stanislaw Barftheron, brother to Robert and potential next in line as to the throne should the so-called legitimate children of King either meet with untimely accidents or damned well, as Stanislaw often put it, were exposed as the bastards everyone including his valiant but brain-dead fat sot of brother knew they were.

"Aye, Ser Tremulous…?" Seaworthy eyed through his one good eye, the nervous Ser Tremulous Kneebuckler, aide to Lord Stanislaw.

"Ser Davos, we must act to break the hold of this bizarre priestess Melisande over our gracious lord. Her new and intolerant Faith is gaining adherents with each and every magic trick she pulls off but it's sure to divide the Kingdom. I suspect she wishes nothing less than to…"

"Ser Tremulous, Ser Davos…" cooingly pleasant voice of Melisande, the red-haired mysterious high priestess of the new Faith of the Light. The waifish yet somehow beautifully, quietly menacing in her black robes as she approached on the dock …Sort of a younger Wicked Witch of the Westeros…image of actress Charlotte Gainsbourg.

(Hey, you cast whom you like I'll cast whom I like…)

Arrh…Seaworthy blinked. The woman reminds me of me cat, always creepin' about, pouncin' just when you least expect.

…And her more directly menacing horde of fanatical attendants, devotees, and hangers-on hoping to cash in on the new faith…("Friends, the Light Lord says to send your money in now!")

"Gentlemen…" the priestess cooed, innocent gaze over their features. "I have heard disturbing reports as to your lack of faith which…Disturb me…And more important, disturb our Light Lord…"

"Him…Him…Not me! Oh, Gods not me!…I mean oh Light Lord…" Ser Tremulous cried, panicking for all his name… "I'm loyal to the new Faith, I swear I'm loyal!"

"There is such a thing as protesting too much, Ser T…" Melisande sighed. "But if you are truly innocent, you have nothing to fear…Take him away, please. We shall examine him later."

"Arhh…I must protest…" Ser Davos frowned as Ser Tremulous was dragged off, howling for mercy…

"It's only that I know you for an honest man and that Lord Stanislaw has complete faith in you, Admiral Ser Davos that I do not call for your examination now." The priestess gently, smiling wistfully. "Ser Tremulous is a schemer who cannot be trusted but I wish you could see the Truth of the one True Faith…And consider…"

"Joinin' yer bizarre Faith that speaks Love and roasts men, women, and children alive?" Davos shook head. "Fraid not…I stand with the ole gods."

"Who replaced the older gods who probably replaced others…" Melisande noted. "But actually I was about to suggest we get it on. In the name of the Light Lord who is surprisingly open to His clergy using sex as a ceremonial offering."

"M'aam…While ye do be lovely and all that. And in appearance at least as innocent of guile and deceit as the driven snow and the white sea-caps…"

My Light Lord, he is so damned eloquent for a simple sea-farin' man…Melisande rapturously listening…

His rugged looks and daring career had already won me but this…Jesus…

Ooops…Forgive me, Light Lord…Not to be mentioning that name is a strict rule…I promise to flagellate myself or perhaps Ser Tremulous in sympathetic sacrifice asap.

"I be happily married, a good family man of simple tastes…Me wife, me home, me ship, me family…And…Me spinach…"

"I see…" Melisande, narrowing eyes. "You do realize the fate that is in store for all those who deny me…I mean the True Faith…" she hurriedly corrected. "Even one with the full trust of the future king, our lord Stanislaw…" Ummn…She looked as numerous sailors started to cluster about Davos, summoned from their ships to defend their gallant Admiral.

Hmmn…Not yet the time…She eyed her now nervous attendants…Devotees…

The hangers-on having already deserted her for the more numerous forces of Davos…

Davos mercifully putting up a hand to stay his angry men…

"Arhhhh…I be the loyal servant of the King. I be Davos, the Seaworthy man." Whistle. "I'm Davos the Seaworthy…" Whistle… "I'm Davos the Seaworthy…Boys?" Chorus of seamen… "He's strong to the finish, though he don't like that spinach, he's Davos the Seaworthy, hurray!"

"Well, if you won't have sex…I mean accept the true Faith, I must sacrifice you to my God of Light, in time." Melisande noted quietly.

"Arrhhh…And why would ye want to be doing that, lassie?"

She shrugged. "Cause we're fanatics, it's what we do."

"Ye be givin' me serious cause to be doubtin' the cause of me Lord Stanislaw, missie, if he be so crazy as to heed the words of such as you."

"Well…We have burned a lot of people." Melisande pointed out. "Surely that's got to suggest we have divine support."

"Robert Barftheron has cleaved hundreds in twain, should I then fall down and worship him?" Davos asked.

Uh…

Damn…I would have to come up against someone with a valid point…

"He has sinned…Burn him!" she cried to the followers. The followers a bit less enthusiastic, eyeing the crowd of tough sailors…Now grimly eyeing them.

Hey, we're just a bunch of ex-slaves and clerks and tradespeople temporarily fired up by religious fanaticism and the occasional drink, lady. These guys are tough…

"Arrhh, now ye've got and got me good and riled, missie." Davos takes can of spinach from knapsack as his sailors cheer.

Da… (Music plays…)

Everyone looking round…Where the hell is that funny music coming from? However, the sailors nodding confidently to each other. Heard this before…

Ging…Davos tears open can, swallows spinach. "Arrhh…I do hate the stuff so, but it give me me fighting edge."

"The Spinach Knight's got his spinach!" cries…Rabid followers becoming immediately less so…

Really he had me at tearing that metal can open with bare hands, Melisande thought. Oh, Je…Light Lord, I gotta have this guy…

I mean, for you, Lord, of course…


	19. Chapter 19

Game of Thrones Tales: Lannister Family Values

Summary: In an alternative universe, King Robert calls on a different old friend and brother to assist him. But whose decency, kindness, and sense of honor, while a bit different from Ned Stark's are equally strong. But are the family values of House Addams a match for the ruthless Lannisters?

Part XIX…

King's Landing, Royal Gate…

Theme from the TV series "Rome" plays as the royal party enters the city…Crowds cheering the return of the King…And the cash and trade he and court bring with them.

Hey…Do he and Cersei actually look like they can tolerate one another? One fellow lost in the throng notes to a comrade as they cheer the royal party on…

Oh, I always knew they could be happy if they'd just get past that vampire Slayer bitch…His companion noted, munching on a bit of stuck pig…Literally, stuck on stick, pig.

Robert and Cersei on royal wheelhouse, waving to crowd…Cersei hoisting giant mug of ale and chugging it down as Robert and crowd cheer her on…

"That's our Queen!" Robert bellowing to the crowd, raising Cersei's hand clenched in his, she beaming at him.

Lord Gomez nodding sagely as he watched from horseback…Knew they were meant for each other once they got past the seventeen bitter years of hatred and abuse.

Goddamn that Addams…Jamie Lannister glaring from his own horse. I thought I wanted to skewer that pompous self-righteous ass Ned Stark with all his sneering at my "betraying" crazy King Eerys while he helps to kill thousands to put a lout like Barftheron on the throne over a lovers' triangle spat, but this guy…

Ruining a perfectly good incestuous relationship…I mean…

Aw, hell…I've always known she wanted Bob…And I've just been her sperm beard to provide heirs mainly to cover for him, no matter what she babbles sometimes about revenge on him and securing the throne for our house.

But goddamn you, Gomez Addams. She might never have had connected with him but for you..

Well…I'm still the greatest…Male…Lets face it, Lady Maudie Addams just can't be beat…And I have the scars to prove it from meeting her in the field three times…Swordsman in the Seven and that weird North region…So I guess that makes it eight, actually…Kingdoms.

And a Lannister…

And you know what that means regarding debt payment…He coldly eyed Lord Addams.

Big man…Friend of the King…Hand of the King…Reconciler of the King and Queen…A bit less nobly stupid than that Stark guy…

But they all bleed the same, in the end…

"Hey, Jamie!...Kingslayer!" Cersei called… "Make sure we're not disturbed tonight at the Keep, ok?…Kingslayer?! 'Cause the King and I got 'business' to get it on with."

Robert chortling…As Jamie glared.

Of all the uteruses in all the world, she had to develop in the one I was marking time in.

"You don't think you're being too hard on the kid?" Robert hissed to Cersei as the procession reached a narrow street land and the Kingsguard moved ahead to survey the road.

"Tough love…He's gotta get over me sometime, honey." She noted. "But thanks for being concerned about my brother…" she beamed, then a bit anxiously. "And…Ummn I mean of course get over his overattachment to me in strictly brotherly way."

"Well…He's family…" Robert shrugged. "And he probably did save tens of thousands by croaking that Hitlerian maniac."

….

The Red(der) Keep…

Lord Gomez wearily dismounting…

Quite a procession…Quite a three week slog from Swampflood…

And without Morty to provide that "spice of life"…

But, duty calls…

"My Lord Addams…" an attendant was hurrying to him.

"Thank you, Thing…" Gomez noted to the hand now taking his towel from him and pulling it into a saddle pocket.

"I won't even ask how you managed to come along…" smile as the hand wagged a finger…Ah, ah, ah…

"My Lord…" the attendant gave a sweeping bow… " Welcome to the capital, gracious Hand. The Little Council headed by Lord Middlefinger has been summoned and awaits your pleasure…"

"Really? Well, if it's a matter of my pleasure…" Gomez noted.

"Just an expression, my lord. The real situation is more Spockian… 'The needs of the many…'"

"Right…" Gomez sighed. "Lead on…"

…..

Swampflood…

Quiet tower room at the end of the corridor passing by the sickroom of Pugsly and Branded…

"Wait…" Lady Maud frowned at the grim face of her daughter-in-law. "Mengele and the eunich both implicated Tyrion Lannister…Cousin Imp? Not Tywin?"

"That's what they said…" Morticia, coldly.

"Nonsense…" Maud shook head. "Tyrion is family, and with a built-in appreciation of the consequences of disability in the medieval era, he'd never…"

"Much as I too appreciate his rapier wit and always felt it concealed a kind heart, I must take this seriously, Mama…" Morticia, arms folded. "Though I must first speak to Gomez before action is taken."

"I wouldn't believe Tywin stupid enough to do this, let alone Tyrion…" Maud shook head. "Now if he were likely to gain something by killing the boys, like say King Richard III Addams when he popped his nephews to seize the throne of the North…"

"Mama…? I thought everyone says now Great-great-great uncle Richard was maligned…" Morticia stared.

"Oh, bullcrap by historians trying to sell books." Maud rolled eyes. "The nephews vanished and his way to the throne was open, c'mon…But getting back to our own current history…What would Tyrion have to gain? Be reasonable, daughter-in-law."

"How can I be reasonable, Mama?! My son and my cousin are lying paralyzed, perhaps for life…" Morticia, her face a stunningly healthy shade of pink.

"But…" Maud protested. "As an old military-political hand I gotta tell you, this makes no sense…Someone is deliberately trying to foment trouble between us and the Lannisters."

"That…" Morticia frowned then calmed. "…Is why I'm going to see Gomez. I must consult with his political genius before taking action."

"But if he agrees with me and consuls a "wait and see" approach?" Maud pressed.

"Then…I will 'wait and see'…But till then…"

"Well, always wise to maintain peace by preparing for war…" Lady Addams nodded.

"I can talk to Lord Belloq…Peter was always a friend to me and Kat Stark. I'm sure he can help us determine what really happened, using his contacts."

"Middlefinger? That sneaky little shit?" Maud frowned.

"Mama…"

"I never liked him when he was a boy and hostage here, courting you and Kat at the same time…I didn't like what I've heard of him since as Finance Minister and spymaster, and I doubt I'd like him now. I wouldn't trust a word he says, Morticia. He'll be playing both sides for his own benefit."

"Well, I'll see what Gomez has to say about him. But I've trusted him as Kat did, Mama."

Maud rolling eyes… "Well, you two were always easy marks for the 'sensitive' type. Just thank the gods Ned and Gomez came along to save you both from him."

"Ophelia was always fond of him too…" Morticia noted.

"Yes, and what a great judge of character your wacked-out sister is…" Maud sighed. "Sorry…" she eyed Morticia's pained look. "But no one knows better how dangerously disturbed your sister is than you… You remember how she once tried to push you out the Moon Door at the Eerie Eyrie cause she thought you were her competition for that snake Belloq."

"Mama. That was simply an accident."

"Like what happened to Kat Stark? The 'torch-out' incident at the Tripletts? Or to Ned? Bad grapes, right."

"Mama…" sigh.

"Just promise me you'll be on guard, Morty." Maud sighed. "I love you as my own daughter and I hate the thought of you and Gomez down there without me and Fester to look after you."

"Oh. Well, I'm taking Uncle Fester, Mama." Morticia, eagerly.

"You bet yer booties!" Fester's happy call via pneumatic tube in the room.

"Lord…Now I am worried." Maud shook her head.

"Uncle Fester?! What have I told you about listening in and the right to privacy…?" Morticia spoke into the mouth/ear piece of the tube.

"Eh, this is Westeros, not Athens, Morticia." Fester's nonchalant return via tube.

"Well, just see Lurch has you fully packed and ready to leave…" Morticia replied, sighing.

Maud signaling to be given tube, Morticia handing it over… "Fester, you ole fool! You see our Morty safe to Kings' Landing and don't take your eyes off her for anything including fresh raven or you'll answer to me, got it?!"

"Yes, Maudie…" Fester's sigh.

"And try not to get yourself roasted alive like Ned Stark's people and Uncle Flemn Addams and Aunt Abigail…Though in Abigail's case I suppose she got what she deserved for violating Eerys' Do Not Feed the Dragons' sign after she became his mistress…"

"That was his and the attendants' story…" Fester's reply via tube… "The way I hear it she asked him to make her hotter than she'd ever been before, and Eerys being Eerys, he did."

…..


	20. Chapter 20

Game of Thrones Tales: Lannister Family Values

Summary: In an alternative universe, King Robert calls on a different old friend and brother to assist him. But whose decency, kindness, and sense of honor, while a bit different from Ned Stark's are equally strong. But are the family values of House Addams a match for the ruthless Lannisters?

Part XX…

Grounds of the Red(der) Keep, King's Landing…

Enter Prince Joffrey, solus, but, naturally, for Airedale, following (rolling eyes…I don't get paid enough as it is and now I gotta hear the mad putz singing his heart out?):

"Oh, my heart is beating wildly  
>And it's all because she's here<br>When I'm not near the girl I love  
>I must torment the girl I'm near<p>

Every femme that flutters by me  
>Is a flame that must be fanned<br>When I can't fondle the hand I'm fond of  
>I break the hand at hand<p>

My heart's in a pickle  
>It's constantly fickle<br>And not too partickle, I fear  
>When I'm not near the girl I love<br>I torment the girl I'm near  
>Sansa, I mean Wednesday,<p>

Is my girl for anyday.

But in torture I'm unfaithful Ifear…

What if they're tall and tender  
>What if they're small and slender<br>Long as they've got that gender  
>I desire them to surrender<p>

Always I can't refuse them  
>Always my insane wrath pursues them<br>Long as they've got a bosom  
>I woos 'em<p>

I torture the girl I'm near…

When I am not… near the gi-rl I love  
>I torment any girl I'm near<p>

I'm confessing a confession  
>And I care not if I'm verbose<br>When I'm not close to the lips that I cling to  
>I have slapped the lips that's close…" ("That's an order, dog!" he called back.)<p>

"As I become more than mere mortal  
>I am more and more a psychotic case<br>When I'm not facing the face that I fancy  
>I smash the face I face<p>

For Wednesday I'm-a-caring  
>But Sansa I must-be-wooing<br>I'm (twistedly) faithful to whos'n is here  
>When I'm not near the girl I love<br>I…Torment the girl I'm near…" raised arms…

Grim look about…Then downcast…

What, no appreciative audience?

"Dog? Remind me to retrospectively kill a couple of hundred nobodies when I am crowned for not cheering my singing?"

Raised eye, roll…Airedale shaking head.

Sigh from Joffrey as he resumes discourse on his tragic plight…

"Be nice to Sansa, Mother says. And Father confirms. Actually seconding her…My Gods, that's only happened when he said… "Yeah, hic-hic…Merry Sevenmas or whatever…Bwaffffhhh…" before stumbling upstairs that Sevenmas eve when I was five. I'm to marry her, Airedale, to secure the bonds between our Houses. Mother's now babbling nonsense about how she thinks everyone will be happy and there's no need to worry about young Robbed Stark rebuilding the Starks' power in the North because 'dear Gomez is such a great guy and good friend to Bobbie…er the King your father'…And Robbed is 'such a sweet, noble boy who'll be guided by Lord Addams'." shakes head. "I mean I've dreamed of a happy family life, with Mom and Dad in love and Dad treating me like a beloved or at least, tolerable, son and heir, and me allowed free liberty to torment whomever I like at will…But…Politically. This all just seems a bit too…Unruthless, I mean for the Lannister-Barftheron clan? Aren't we supposed to crush our enemies and wade in their bloody entrails?"

So what? You expect me to answer this insane twaddle? The Airedale repressed a sigh, looking noncommittal…As if I didn't know any response would be twisted by you, you little insane prick, into some reason to have me flogged or otherwise tortured...Or more likely, to torment the first person you caught me caring about. You really need to spend time with my insane brother, you and he would get on like gangbusters.

"You're right of course, dog…" Joffrey reflected, answering himself. "Sansa's cute enough and as Mom suggested…" (Tongue firmly in cheek, I saw…The Airedale thought. And agree having seen Lady Wednesday scorning you.) "…I could always see Wednesday on the side. Kinda thrilling that adultery thing…Caesar of Valeria was big on that, you know. Plus a good chance to mentally torture Sansa and brutally and publicly humiliate her for not being Wednesday, my true love. Which as you know, is in the Barftheron tradition. Wow, I really am my father's son, eh?" beam.

Sounds like the Joffrey Barftheron version of marital bliss, alright…The Airedale quickly rolled eyes again. Solemn look as Joffrey glanced at him.

I ought to record all these demented babblings he does to me for history's sake… "Annals of the even Madder King…Vol1, the Nut Case yet Wussy Prince", a surefire best seller decades from now. "You'll pity even as you revile him."-The New Penthosian Times. "A clear and accurate history of how the Barftheron line fell-Heck, sledge-hammered itself in the head into an early grave. Gods, what a nut."-The Bravvos Review. "A true horror-story of a reign. Someone really should poison that bastard fruitcake like a mad dog that needs to be put down."-The Tyrrell Reporter.

One does have to think about retirement, after all.

"Well, in any case…" Joffrey reflected… "If it pleases Father and Mother, I suppose I'll have to turn on the charm for the bitch." Beaming smile…Sigh. "But, oh…Wednesday…If only she'd deign to spit upon me as Sansa and I passed her during the wedding procession. That's how women show their love, you know, dog. Father told me once…And told me to keep going back to the ones who do so, even if they kick me away, have relatives beat me, or set dogs upon me. 'Only a worthless little shit like you would fail to be persistent in such cases', he says. It's an incentive to prove my worth, you know. That's true fatherly advice, dog."

Fortunately…The Airedale sighed to himself…Even that doesn't make up for his innate prickyness. Else I'd be weeping for the kid and probably facing the chopping block for trying to kill Robert.

"Well, let us go seek out Lady…yuck...But good enough to fuck…Sansa." Sigh, then brightening… "Maybe Lady Wednesday will be with her and that boy-girl Arya. Perhaps she'll even mock me as she does. That's a lady's way of saying… 'Gods I want you, keep trying'…Dog."

No doubt more helpful advice from Dad…The Airedale thought.

…

Winterfalls…

To which, with his guardian's gracious permission, Robbed Stark has returned with brother Ricketts and adoptive brother/hapless captive hostage Fearing Greatjerk to see that all is secure…

Being a wise move, given on hearing of Ned Stark's demise, the Tin Islands Lord, Percy "Hotspur" Greatjerk, Fearing's valiant but hot-headed, bellicose, and blind to overwhelming odds, dad, has laid plans to seek revenge for his long-ago defeat by the Stark clan and rumors are abounding as to his preparations for war.

"Dad's a psychotic barbarian with no grace or 'tone', Robbed, it's true." Fearing was noting to Robbed in the Great Hall of Winterfalls. "But I think I can persuade him to back off if he's really up to something. After all, it's not like there's a civil war going on that might give us a chance of kicking your asses. We'd be crushed by you and Tywin Lannister even before King Robert came to join in the fun. Our best policy is clearly to blow with the prevailing winds, cringe abjectly, and stay loyal, I'll make the case to Dad."

"Sniveling but wise, Fearing…"Robbed nodded. "The Lord Hand Addams being my guardian, you can be sure the whole might of Westeros would be thrown upon your pathetic homeland…It was 10 to 1 last time, it'll be 100 to 1…If your father is so unbalanced as to try to attack."

"Exactly. Abject surrender is the only way…" Fearing nodded. "Peace at any price, that's my policy. Unless of course civil war does break out in which case I'd do all I could to persuade Dad to ally with you against the Lannisters. I have a sister whom I remember was showing a degree of hotness potential when I left home, who'd make an excellent marriage chip for you. Whilst our people would surely be useful in raiding the Lannister coast…And I know they'd love to plunder, kill, and rape men, women, and children in Lannisterport and its environs instead of having it done to them, for a change. The Golden Rule of our pseudo-medieval culture…'Do it to them first and worse before they do it to you.'"

Robbed nodding… "You're a loyal if sniveling friend and true if carefully watched brother, Fearing. I think Lord Addams will manage to keep the peace but you can go and give your father my best wishes and tell him mass slaughter and enslavement in Essos awaits him and all your kind if he fails to remain in abject submission despite my father's death leaving us vulnerable. As for your sister, well…Maybe for Branded, while he's comatose. I as Lord of Winterfalls and potential King of the North candidate naturally couldn't lower myself so much as to soil my family name with a mere Greatjerk bride. I'd sooner take one of Frey's bitches. But my regards to my potential in-laws, tell your sis Branded's a great kid and would be no trouble to her at all as a husband."

"I'll gladly bear that message, brother Robbed." Fearing, hand on shoulder. Several guards immediately drawing swords, one holding knife to Greatjerk's throat.

"What have I said about getting too close, Greatjerk?" Robbed frowned.

"Uh…Sorry, sir." Fearing sheepishly as Ricketts also frowned.

Watch yourself, miserable shit-eating hostage.

"Visitor at the gates, my Lord Stark." An attendant came to the door of the Hall. "Lord Tyrion Lannister has returned from the far North, sends his greetings, and would like to request shelter for the evening for himself and about 200 merry companions, merchants, and associated hangers on. He brings news of Jon Snowed and politely inquires as to your brother's..."

Robbed rising in anger, having been alerted by Lady Morticia before her departure for Kings' Landing as to the possible if unconfirmed involvement of Lord Tyrion in the attempted murder and crippling of the boys Branded and Pugsly.

"Lord Stark, yo…" Tyrion with merry followers following in happy ongoing carousal…

No one with unlimited credit ever being short of merry followers…

"Couldn't wait to hear how things stand with your brother and young Pugs, but didn't have time to slog through to Swampflood…Your other brother the bastard Snowed is settling in well at…"

"Imp…" glare from Robbed. Glare from Ricketts. Glare from Stark attendants. Glare from Fearing, after pause to see if glare was the right mode to enter.

"Cousin Imp…" Tyrion noted, wry look. "Robbed? This seems hardly a warm welcome, distant cousin Stark. What did Cersei finally kill off Robert and start a civil war and po'd you to the other side? Don't tell me you found out Dad was behind the deaths of your parents at Ser Walter's shindig? I would assure he'd never be so stupid."

"Yes. No. Not yet." Robbed, coldly.

Merry followers and assorted hangers-on looking a bit distressed.

This is looking not like a nuptial nor a decent night's rest…

"We don't gotta fight for the imp cause we took his money and hospitality, do we?" one nervous fellow hissed to a comrade. "I'm really more of a sell wordsmith than a sell sword…But you know the Lannisters and how that 'pay debts' thing works both ways."

"No contract was signed, no handshake, we're good…We just kindly offer distant and objective moral support." his friend hissed back. "Maybe a nice laudatory poem if he gets croaked."

"I could manage that."

Tyrion shaking head…"Oh?…Well. Was it that prostitute, Roz? Look, Bob…I'm sorry if the girl goes for the deep pockets…"

"This isn't about a prostitute…" Robbed glared.

He got my Roz in the sack? That lil' son of …Fearing fumed.

"And the girl is dead in any case…"

"What?!" Tyrion, Fearing in chorus. Fearing having not needed to be informed and no one caring to…

"She was an assassin as well as a whore…" Robbed, grimly.

"Hey…" Tyrion frowned. "Mind your tongue there…Even a prostitute should be treated like a lady…What, she killed your parents?"

"No…She tried to kill the maester bribed to kill Branded and Pugsly Addams, in their sickroom at Swampflood. The boys someone was paid to murder by pushing them off the Swampflood walls, I'm sure of it now…And she was assisting someone else who tried to finish the job."

"And you think I?..." Tyrion shaking head…

Merry followers eyeing each other…

Did not sign on to hang with a mini-child murderer…

"I didn't say you. You said you." Robbed noted. "But you Lannisters do have the deep pockets for such large assassin staffs."

"Oh, tres clever…" Tyrion frowned, rolling eyes. "You have all the razor's keenness of your dad… Well, so you think what, my dad? Cersei?"

Hmmn…Cersei I might just believe…

"I accuse no other without proper evidence." Robbed, grimly.

"And yet here you are, accusing me…" Tyrion sighed. "Well, all I can say is you're rather foolish to see that neither I nor my father would have anything to gain from something like this."

"Like what?!" Fearing cut in, accusingly.

"Like we were just discussing, you fool twit…" Tyrion glared. "Well, fine…You don't accuse me but you've tried and found me guilty without proof. I'll be off then, with my…" he looked round to see all but three or four truly desperate hangers-on had slipped off…And they were hanging back, in the shadows… "I'll be off. I'm sure I find a good bed at the local brothel and poor Roz had a very pretty near-identical sister no doubt in need of comforting. But before I go…"

Pouch hung on his shoulder opens, hand extends holding sheaf of papers…

"Thanks, Thing…" Tyrion took the sheaf, examining. "Excellent work…Say how are things so far at Kings' Landing?"

Ok sign by the hand which re-entered the pouch.

"Yes, well, give my best to Lord Addams…"

The hand briefly re-emerging, waving…And withdrawing again into the pouch…

"Right, then…" Tyrion offered the sheaf to Robbed who eyed them. "This is a set of diagrams for a harness for the boys to ride on horse. If they do remain crippled, it should ease their lives a bit and impress any girls willing to overlook their disability for the sake of lands, money, and power."

Robbed taking drawings, looking over…

"Have your workmen fix it up. It should help." Tyrion noted.

"What are you looking at you twit? Take any degrees in engineering while here in abject captivity?" he eyed Fearing who'd bent in to take a closer look at the drawings, attempting to look as if he understood them.

"You've done a neat thing for Branded and Pugsly. I apologize. You're welcome here, unless of course evidence arises to confirm your guilt in the crime." Robbed noted.

"Lovely. Think I'll take myself off to said brothel, thanks." Tyrion, shrug. Oooh, brothel...Several of the now returning hangers-on noted to each other. "Hilda the sister awaits. Give my best to the boys and tell them there are worse things than being disabled and filthy rich. There's being disabled and left on a dung heap to die by your impoverished parents…Or sold to a traveling circus to join a freak show." Reflecting as Robbed stared. "Actually Cersei tried to do that to me one summer. But I just organized the freaks and we came home and they camped out on our lawn all summer. One of them fell for Cersei, it was a bit sad…Serenaded her every night. You know I actually think the feeling was a bit mutual…You know Cersei…" All nod… "Till Father had him sewn up in a sack Byzantine style and dumped at sea. I think she even blames me for that." shrug.


End file.
